The Wreckage
by MidnightManic
Summary: It's what happens when two sides collide. It's the explosion between what you want and what you need, what's right and what's wrong. It's the wreckage. And it could be so easy. A ROMY romantic adventure.
1. Bad Dreams Are Made of These

**Title: **The Wreckage

**Disclaimer**: I don't even own the rights to my soon to be college degrees and will not for many, many, many years… It's called a starving student, and by the state of my fridge, I'm living the dream.

**Pairing**: Rogue and Remy

**Rating**: Teen/Mature

**Warnings**: Contains dark and adult themes

**Summary**: It's what happens when two sides collide. It's the explosion between what you want and what you need, what's right and what's wrong. It's the wreckage. And it could be so easy. ROMY.

**The Wreckage**

**Chapter One **

**Bad Dreams Are Made of These**

Green.

That's all she could see as she opened her eyes. Sharp, searing pains permeated her neck and ran throughout her whole body whenever she tried to turn her head. In her periphery, she could barely see the other side of the tank she was held captive in. Tubes were connected systematically around the glass, reaching into the box, connecting on various places in the body. The tubes where weren't as much tubes, yet claws, digging painfully into her skin. They were everywhere; in her arms, legs, back, stomach, neck. Within the numbness of the pinch, she felt yet another needle-like poke, as if a bee had injected its stinger into the area. On the ridge of her nose stood the tight air mask supplying her with oxygen.

Rogue looked up. The bright surgical light was refracted by the color around her. Through the top of the glass cage she could faintly make out the silhouettes of men. They moved around the confinement, pausing so often, looking at the girl as if she was a circus freak. She squirmed uncomfortably, but was silenced by the agonizing pain. Yet when she did move, she noticed the green almost jiggled in place, as if it was cheap gooey hair gel you would buy at a corner pharmacy. The green didn't slosh around like liquid whenever she made any slight movement.

Suddenly, the claw's pressure dissipated. Gone was the needle pinching her skin, the grasp gone, giving relief to the slowly sinking Rogue. She couldn't move, she was slowly sinking to the bottom of her imprisonment. Something pressed up against her back, lifting her upwards to meet the light.

Above the green gel, she looked around frantically to the sides of her. Surgical lights blinded her from over her; metal gleamed to the side of her. A snap of gloves grabbed her attention from the other side of the room. A figure decked in an operating robe, mask, and gloves approached the side of her. He motioned to the other side of the room, and out appeared more operators coming to his aid.

One fairly young looking doctor yanked off her old gas mask roughly, then pressed a new one upon her head, adjusting it, then turning on a knob from a tank next to her. The words on the cistern ran blurry on her mind, she could barely make out the figures that meant to stand as letters.

She willed herself to scream, to let the doctors know she was awake, but no sound came out as she opened her mouth. Instead, gas filled her nostrils and mouth. A drowsy sensation clouded her mind, giving her the fuzzy idea that what they had given her was sleeping gas, meant to numb the pain. The young doctor didn't turn up the pressure enough; Rogue could still feel the excruciating pain.

Intense twinge inflicted the girl's body. She tried to shrink way, thinking that the doctors would stop the slashing as she shifted; yet she was wrong, for more pain exploded. Instinctively, Rogue knew she was being cut open in long, deep slashes. Her eyes darted around frantically, meeting the glare of something metallic in her periphery. The pain occurred all over, she couldn't tell where exactly the slashes were pinpointed, or why, for that matter. Green was all she could remember seeing of this day.

Another jarring pain pressured her body. A slow and agonizing death was waiting for her from this. Each ripple grew stronger and longer with every slice. Her mind worked in overdrive, imagining after every sliver her skin being pulled open; her inside inspected, tweaked with curiosity. Pressure built everywhere in her bones; they were on fire. Something was being rammed into her skin, and then ignited like a match. It felt like a bolt was being twisted hard and squeezing her insides. It grew agonizing. The torturing feeling built up farther and farther until she felt she could not live any longer. She needed to stop the pain.

Her body twitched involuntarily and gave her the strength to try and move her arms and legs, but they were tied fast to the gurney. Dizzy and tortured, the Rogue lifted her head, gasping at the sight in front of her very eyes. Surgeons and nurses surround her body, each a metal part in hand. Yet, out of the army, only one surgeon was working on her arm. Blood poured out of the wound, staining her body and the bed. It stained not only around her arm, but the perimeter of her body. No longer was the bed white, yet a deep crimson red, the true color of blood. What were they doing to her?

At long last the surgeon stepped back. He announced something to all the nearby nurses. They all left the room, leaving Rogue alone and strapped to the table. The pain consumed her. Her joints, skin, bones, and hair even, felt as if scraped off brutally, burned to oblivion. She twitched. Something injected her back. The single touch of the needle end began another pained spell. Electricity zapped her, making her jump around mercilessly. Then, the pin slowly eased, diminishing into a faint remembrance. It took a while, but soon there was not a trace of the agony once endured by her.

She stopped twitching. Around her wrists and ankles, she could feel the straps that had previously held her down being loosened and opened. Rogue cautiously got up, wondering what the deal was. An odd feeling enclosed her skeleton, like she had been stuffed like a Thanksgiving turkey. This feeling especially swelled around her wrists and hands. She looked down, blown away at what she saw.

Metal was poking out from each hand, positioned in the middle of her knuckles. They weren't attached _to_ her skin; they were attached _under_ it. What had they done to her? She stared at her hands in disbelief, slowly backing up into a wall. She screamed finally, letting out a ferocious roar so loud, she could feel the vibrations bounce off the metal room to meet her again. She ran around the lab like a mad man, overthrowing objects, using the metal to slash wildly, ripping apart everything. When everything was just about destroyed to dust, she stood in the middle of the dome and yelled a pitiful cry, only to fall to her knees in heap. All around her she heard a clicking sound, like millions of guns loading. She looked around. What she hadn't noticed before was how the lab she was in had holes, rather large openings really, around it, specifically aimed at her. Within a split second, the guns exploded.

With a shudder, Rogue jerked forward, lungs gasping for air, hair stuck to her sweaty neck and forehead. She looked wildly around herself, unable to identify where she was in the piercing darkness. Her chest heaving, she couldn't remember where she was. Was she in her own room or was she still back in that horrid lab? It was too quiet to tell. Rogue groped around, trying to find something to hold on to and help recognize where she was. Fear rose like a maniac in her mind. Panic made her heart race desperately. Where was she?

Rogue reached all around, trying to find anything useful. Something tangled her feet together, she realized, desperately kicking her feet. She kicked too hard while reaching toward her right… then promptly fell of the bed. Head first.

"Fuck," she hissed as her head banged something hard. Muffled running feet sounded and pulsed into her room. Light flooded into the room as someone flicked on the light. She closed her eyes quickly, unadjusted to the bright light. She timidly peeked out, almost fearing which reality she would have to face. Standing in front of the closed door stood Kitty, obvious with worry and concern crossing her delicate Valley Girl features.

"Oh my gosh, Rogue! Are you okay?" The valley girl attempted to whisper, but squeaked instead.

Rogue looked around. Black curtains adorned the windows, blocking out the stars and bright night sky's moon. Posters of dark, gothic bands covered the walls, almost making it hard to decipher the true color of the walls, which were a dark, romantic kind of purple. Tangled around her feet were the black comforters of her bed. She let out a sigh of relief. She was back in her room, not the disgusting laboratory. She glanced back at Kitty, who was giving her a puzzled look and still waiting for an answer.

"Yeah, I'm okay, Kit," she replied half-heartedly, while rubbing her sweaty forehead. Her head throbbed from where she hit her head on her nearby nightstand.

"Like, what happened?" Kitty implored. She moved closer to the fallen girl.

"The bed fell offa me," came the sarcastic remark. She untangled herself from her binds and plopped her covers on the bed.

"Okay, sure," she rolled her eyes. "What really happened? I was like, going to the bathroom and heard you talking all super loud, and then I came back and uh, here you are?" she explained, making a note to be quieter when her friend flinched at her loud tone.

"It was nothing, just a crazy dream," Rogue answered quietly. A migraine was rearing its ugly head again, and she needed a pretty pill. Bad. She began remaking her bed. Kitty threw some pillows onto the bed. She knew Rogue was done with this conversation and began to walk back to the door.

"Hey Rogue?" Kitty started. Rogue stopped what she was doing and turned around. "You would like, tell me if something was wrong, right?" Rogue gave her a ghost trace of a smile.

"Yeah, sure Kit," she lied, somewhat convincingly, somewhat tiredly. Kitty smiled at the answer.

"Good, because I'm totally here for you, you know." Kitty phased half of herself out the door before calling back a soft goodnight.

"Night Kit," she called out aimlessly. She turned off the light and waited by the door for a minute. After a safe amount of time had passed, she quietly opened the door and peered out. There was nobody in the halls and no lights were visibly turned on.

Taking one step, she quietly began walking down the hall. Logan's room was just ahead, around the corner really. Her quickened pace diminished to a snails crawl. With Logan's enhanced hearing, it would be harder than hell to get by unnoticed. He heard everything, from something a mile away to a mouse's fart.

It took forever to pass Logan's room. Small baby steps were all she could manage, and barely at that, she couldn't help but make the tiniest squeak. No doubt that if the Wolverine found her after hours, wandering the passages of the Xavier Institute, he'd either give her an awkward attempt at a heart-to-heart or a week of Danger Room Sessions. With her migraine building steadily, neither was really appealing. Finally, Rogue reached her destination: the kitchen.

Rogue looked around before she entered. Empty. It was dark and lonely, and since no one was there, it was somewhat creepy. Rogue placed a barefoot upon the cold tile and turned on one of the dimmer lights. She took delicate steps towards the back of the pantry and fumbled around boxes of cereal to find a container of aspirin. She quickly took out two tablets of pain relieving goodness, threw it to the farthest reaches of her mouth and drowned them with water. She swallowed the pills with a flinch and downed the whole glass of water in hopes to dissipate it all so she wouldn't feel the familiar lodge in her throat. She turned to refill it, and then downed another glass. About to gulp the rest, she was rudely interrupted mid swallow.

"What are you doing up?"

She nearly choked. She thought that when Logan didn't follow her out the hall that she was home free. Errrr! Wrong. She waited for the water in her nasal passages to clear before talking.

"Damnit, Logan! It's_ normal_ to make _noise_!" she gasped, still recovering.

"Normal doesn't exist here," was his lazy answer. He wrapped around the bar to the fridge, grabbing a beer, and popping it off with a flick of his wrist. He took a seat on the nearby stool. Rogue did the same; silently sipping her water while Logan stared at her with questioning eyes.

"What's up?"

"Oh y'know… just some good old nighttime reflection," she spoke into her cup meekly.

"Oh yeah? About what?" he asked, bored with her answer.

"The validity of studies on caffeine and their effects past 7pm," she replied quickly, shrugging, rehearsed. They both knew she was lying. Logan sighed. She knew that sound: it was the awkward heart-to-heart sigh.

"Them nightmares again?"

Rogue looked into her glass, somewhat queasy at the thought of her recent nightmare. Only the teachers knew about her nightly journey through the darker side of memories. Sure, the students residing knew about the incident where she had a nightmare about Kurt's past, but she was certain that's all they really knew.

"Whose?" Logan asked, taking a swig out of his bottle. Rogue inspected her hands. She had some idea of whose it was… but… please no…

"I… I don't know…" she started off, unable to find the words suddenly. She held her head with her hand, trying to think back. "It was dark...There was a lab. And when I finally opened my eyes, all I saw was green… Then, I was taken out and put on a table. They gassed me and started cutting me open… god, it was painful." Rogue unknowingly massaged her arms, wincing at the thought of it all. "I could feel the pain, Logan, even now…"

Her body involuntarily shook. Merely thinking about the pain drove shockwaves through her system. Each shocked her and lingered on until another shockwave feed it more power to pulse further. "It hurt so much. They were ripping apart my muscles and setting my bones on fire. I looked up and…god…" she diminished, remembering, but not wanting to say the rest. She felt sick.

"Ya look up and it looks like all your blood is on you, not in you. Then they leave…and the pain slowly stops, right?" Logan finished, unable to look at her, taking a long swig out of a second beer he magically produced.

She should have been surprised, but who was she kidding- it all made horrible sense. She pulled her head up, clearly tormented. He gave her a sad half smile.

"Don't look at me like that." Logan sighed and ran a hand through his unruly hair. "I'm sorry ya had to see that. A kid like you shouldn't be forced to relive people's memories."

"Wasn't your fault," Rogue responded, shrugging despondently. Of course it wasn't his fault. It was hers and her sucky excuse of a mutation. She rubbed her eyes. Her situation just wasn't getting any better.

"I'm… I'm going to head to bed right now. Night, Logan," she responded feebly. Quietly, she picked up her empty glass and stuck in the always-full dishwasher.

"Night," Logan called after her. Rogue made no response back. Instead she quickly sauntered off.

He took another swig and sighed. 'Of all the people who deserve a break…'

He could do nothing to help her and it sucked. At night he wondered what was really keeping her together. Hope, maybe? Hope for control, for a new beginning maybe. Either way, it wasn't coming fast enough; each day dragged on, taking the last thread of hope with it.

He finished the last of his beer and shook his head. It wouldn't be too long until she drowned in her life and hit rock bottom; Logan feared for that day, along with most of the instructors, feared what she might end up doing, willingly or not.

He walked back upstairs, patrolling the halls, stopping at her door, making sure he heard her breathing and rustling up the sheets. Such a parental thing to do, he knew and at any other point in his life, he'd be annoyed with himself. But Rogue… she needed this, the protective nature and the quiet, unnoticed checkups, whether she wanted it or not. And heck, maybe he needed it to.

* * *

Light.

She cringed and moaned. It was like a taunting joke to her. It was the end of a tunnel that she could never reach, it was the mocking shine of happiness and clarity. And as always, today it was another kind reminder. It told her to wake up. But she couldn't. She didn't want to. She wanted to stay in her self-created bed of darkness and silence and peacefulness.

She hated this cold light. Late afternoon light was okay in her book, twilight light too, even. She drew the line at the crack-of-dawn light though. Morning light meant another day she could never really enjoy. Another day to spend trapped in her crazy, lawless mind, drifting through the hoards of people who could never really _understand_.

Just another day.

A bright and beautiful one at that, complete with full breathless sunrise that assured someone else's happy-go-lucky day. She hated that.

Rogue popped her eyes open. Her head turned groggily towards the alarm clock with a pop. 6 AM. That time rang a small bell within the sanctuary of her mind. She thought about why that time felt so familiar…

Wait…

Didn't Logan's Danger Room Session start at precisely 6 AM? As in fully dressed, waiting with the rest of her teammates, and waiting for instructions?

And now, on this other goddamned beings blessed day, she was late. She hated that more.

Rogue flung her black covers off ferociously. Her room became a tornado of clothing as she ripped through her room trying to remember where she put her uniform. She applied her always-needed-always-present foundation and liner, taking less time than it did to put on her body suit. Her vanity drawer flew open and she dug in, recovering her training black gloves bitterly. She raced out the door, pulling taughtly as she flew.

'Wake up!' Rogue pleaded for her body to obey her for once. 'You're getting sloppy, damnit.'

Danger Room Sessions. Oh, how she hated them.

She understood the practical aspects of it, yes. There was always the "what-if" aspect of training: what if anti-mutant terrorists attacked the mansion, what if you had to rescue a fallen teammate during battle, or the one ever present during combat practice for Rogue, what if you were not able to use your mutation during battle?

However, this logic fell upon deaf ears so early in the morning. She had been trying for 2 years to get into this early morning routine, but apparently, she just wasn't the jovial morning type. This, compounded with memories and nightmares and the general annoyance being her, created a bit of an issues being awake. She had contemplated morning after morning just siphoning some of that morning "go-getter" attitude of Scott and Jean, except the thoughts that would surely accompany it just wouldn't be worth it.

So here she was, half asleep and confused, fighting the "what if your life was dependant on getting a small, red flag" game. In the light of recent events, she felt this was pointless- very pointless and very stupid. Dealing with Apocalypse a few months back had given the team, and especially Logan, a rude awakening as to how much more training was needed. Thus, they were training and training hard.

And it didn't help the situation that she was dead exhausted. After her heart-to-heart with Logan, her sleep was fitful and only an hour at most. She had firmly decided she preferred the ambiguity of her borrowed nightmares. Just the memory itself was terrifying- but putting a face to a memory? Especially your mentor, your almost _father figure_? Just the remembrance of Logan's memory sent shivers down her spine and her entire being was engrossed in fear and panic and heartache. Needless to say, she couldn't close her eyes without flashes playing in her mind, without her body twitching and shaking and covered in a cold sweat.

But instead of feeling the horrible dragging of her eyelids, she tried to remove herself from the exhaustion and force her tired body to carry on with mental exertion. During the entire training she had idly listened to the barked orders through her earphone and reported back as little as possible. Based on her mental tally of everyone on her team and the opposing team, only 4 students were left- Cyclops and Rogue against Jean and Kitty. Neither team had yet to capture the flag and there was only 10 minutes left on the clock.

Rogue leaned against a large tower of crates. The boxes were only stacked two to three high, next to each other to create a maze. There were some supposedly deserted warehouses slightly beyond the thicket of wooden boxes. It was no problem to get lost and create a full circle in this confusion. You always ran into someone, which is what most of her teammates did. 'Very creative, Logan,' she thought sarcastically. So stereotypical. What they really needed was an everyday re-enactment of Apocalypse – something that was practical and _real_.

Her communicator linked. "I'm out," came a breathy, groaning reply. Cyclops. She cursed back into the communicator angrily. She knew how _that_ battle went. Cyclops ran into Jean, Jean kicked his ass because Cyclops refused to beat up his girlfriend. Way to take one for the team.

And now she was all alone. Against a telepath and a phaser. She groaned. This should turn out well.

From behind a large crate, she peered out, anxious to find something that would end the session. She crept down the long corridor listening for the sounds of "the enemy." After making another turn, she heard some creaking and the slow intake of breath. Shadowcat. She snapped back behind the cover of the crates and peeked out carefully.

On the other side of the wooden wall, Shadowcat's brunette head barely popped out from the crate, phased only until her neck. Rogue yanked her head back from Shadowcat's view, praying she hid in time as to not have been seen. She heard a controlled exhale. Shadowcat had fully left her phased state.

'You know what you have to do,' someone's unhelpful hiss spoke into her ear. Her mouth went dry and she felt slightly nauseated. She clenched her eyes and shuddered, trying to prepare herself. Off came the black glove off one hand; she stuffed it in her belt. Again she peered out. Shadowcat was walking in the direct opposite direction, cautiously too, her hands ready for a surprise attack… from the front.

"Jean, like, what's your status?"

Rogue made her resolve and forced herself into daze. She felt herself creeping forward quickly, deadly quiet from her training. She couldn't hesitate- Shadowcat could phase rather quickly. Rogue was behind her, her hand shaking as it snaked out quickly, finding the bare skin of Shadowcat's neck. A sharp jolt ran through her body and she yanked back as fast as she could, like she was burnt.

She felt herself catching Kitty and fell to the ground with her, trying to right her way back into awareness. She ignored the memories, the voices, the uproar, and just tried to focus on the power aspect of it- which she was sure she would need to take down Jean.

Kitty let out a glurgled noise and looked at Rogue with a confused expression.

"Oh, hello," she replied sleepily.

"Sorry, Kit," she whispered.

"S'okay," she slurred.

Kitty's communicator beeped. "I'm on of a pile to the right of you. Have you found Rogue yet? She's the last one." Kitty snorted a little, reaching up lazily to respond.

"I'm out," she forced out, taking out her communicator and turning it off. "Good luck," she smiled weakly at Rogue.

Rogue took one last sad look at her weakened friend. God, she really hated these battling session. She now had Kitty's power for the time being, and she'd better use it up. She propped Kitty up against the crate, and holding her breath, phased through an empty crate on the right. She walked into another pathway. Nothing. Again, she ran into more crates, and popped her head out. Still nothing. She propelled herself upwards, poking her head through the top.

Only a few boxes over stood the ever-so-radiant Jean Grey, facing the other way in perfect poise. Obviously, she searched for the one named Rogue.

Rogue dropped down, and started sprinting through the crates and pathways. Kitty's abilities were slowly waning, and Rogue needed them to finish this. It would last probably another minute at most Kitty's phasing power slowly ebbed away from Rogue's mental grasp. The rest of Rogue phased up soundlessly and stood behind her, close enough to smell the faint scent of Jean's perfume.

Hand still ungloved from her last attack, she swiftly made the last small step to the glowing telepath. She closed her eyes- this one would particularly hurt. She felt her body tighten and her arm snap forwards and ensnared Jean's partially covered hand.

And they both screamed automatically.

"Let go! Let go!" screamed Rogue's voice out of Jean's mouth.

They both fell to the floor, the impact jarring Rogue away from Jean's hand.

Thousands of voices exploded, each talking at their own speed, own pitches, own slang. They all pounded in Rogue's head. She pressed her temples, and then covered her ears in attempt to drown out the noise. She fell to her knees, crying at the pain still throbbing in her head. Rogue gripped the floor, trying to ground herself in the torrent of _voices _and _thoughts_ and _memories_. There were so many more this time and she struggled to hear herself think and not be lost in the minds of everyone else. This is why Jean's powers hurt.

She closed her eyes and tried to concentrate. Floods of memories flowed into Rogue. They all reeled in her head, like a silent movie gone too fast. She looked around her head; images played like a movie, each revealing something different: Jean's first kiss, being with Scott, her powers evolving. Everything was coming to her head at a rapid pace, cluttering her mind dangerously. She felt herself being swirled away, lost in her mind with the chaos.

And she knew it shouldn't have gone this far, the memories should have been gone by now. The last time she absorbed Jean, this did not happen. Jean's powers had certainly grown since before Apocalypse; obviously, so had Rogue's.

From the back of her mind, she willed herself to keep going, and find that flag. She watched as her body got up and stumble. She looked around, half seeing the warehouse, half seeing the inside tornado of her mind. She didn't know how her body was moving- maybe some automaticity-survival mechanism, but was she ever grateful. Internally, Rogue was slowly getting buried, even as she fought and screamed to get _control_ of her own mind, while still searching around for that _stupid flag._

And then she realized all the voices, all of them repeating Jean's and Rogue's name, all of them panicked and worried and ready to bolt, weren't just the psyches exploding- it was Jean's telepathy. Jean's telepathy was picking up on every observer in the control room and Rogue couldn't find the off switch.

She started to panic. She had been getting better with controlling and ignoring everyone that she absorbed, but this was too much. She was being drowned under everything, left unable to think for herself. Within her own mind she felt like she was being caged into a trap. It was all too much. The pain slowed her thinking to a dull murmur. Conscienceless, she could feel her mind go into unwilling shock, even as she screamed at herself to stay conscious. No, she would not fall victim to her damn mutation and its side effects, not again. She kept her body moving by the single thread of willpower still connecting her to the outside world.

From the back of her mind she watched as her world grew hazy and quiet. The voices were still there, she was just shutting herself down. She was watching herself dream. It was quiet, like a black and white movie. It felt like the quiet destruction of the world portrayed in movies- mass chaos with the pictures showing silent reels of toddlers crying and people screaming. All she realized that was she couldn't help herself out of her mental stupor.

Black dots danced in front of her face. She was in the Danger Room, flying over the boxes and crates, praying for this to end quickly. There was no sound but the dreary hum of her heartbeat in the back of her mind. It was the only thing there, the deep monotonous ticking. It went slow. It pulsed with the pound and throb of her migraine. It flowed with the rush of her blood. It swirled with the thoughtless mess. She wanted to fall over and sleep and just forget this ever happened- after she got that stupid flag.

Her body was flying, so fast- Jean's telekinesis had lifted every crate around them, trying to reveal where the stupid flag was. Through the black spots dotting her vision, Rogue could make out a red flag waving about carelessly, surrounded by boxes.

And her body was making a bee-line for it...

Even as Jean's powers started draining- rapidly. But out came her outstretched hand, grasping the flag mid air, crumpling it in her fist and holding on to it for dear life.

And she had done it, just as the last vestiges of Jean's power whispered away.

'Ugh, stupid perfectionist Jean. This so wasn't worth it,' she thought sleepily as she black out mid-plummet to the floor.

* * *

Hello all! Here it is: The Wreckage. It's taken a while to do this and a lot of complication on what to do with this. I've made somewhat of a coherent plan on where I want to take it and have _a lot_ written. It's a matter of pushing past the writer's block and prioritizing (because I'm in the throes of applying for graduation in June and eventually getting an adult life with an adult job and adult hobbies…).

You'll notice that this is re-editing of some chapters and next chapter, re-editing with a CRAP TON of new stuff. You'll see I changed the entire direction and general idea of the story. I'm changing what I had originally (and unintentional) clichéd emo Rogue and overly-focused-on-Rogue Remy. I'll prob take down TS soon too (stupid ff rules…)

Also, I took a small inspiration from one of my favorite songs for this story motif. House of Blues pizookie to whoever figures it out. Anyways… expect the next chapter soon (within the next decade, I promise)!

Toodles! (and review me please! It's almost finals week and I need some motivation to be productive and a will to live!)


	2. Oh Jeez, What Is It This Time?

**Title: The Wreckage**

**Disclaimer: I don't even own the rights to my soon to be college degrees and will not for many, many, many years… It's called a starving student, and by the state of my fridge, I'm living the dream.**

**Pairing: Rogue and Remy**

**Rating: Teen/Mature**

**Warnings: Contains dark and adult themes**

**Summary: It's what happens when two sides collide. The explosion between what you want and what you need, what's right and what's wrong. It's the wreckage. And it could be so easy. ROMY.**

**The Wreckage**

**Chapter 2 **

**Oh Jeez, What Is It This Time?**

Voices. So many voices. They were muffled, hard to focus on what each one was saying. They each said different things. Some were anguished, sad, mournful, excited. Others positively screamed in her already throbbing head. Granted they didn't actually scream at her, just in her.

She couldn't think straight; much less hear her own pained thoughts. The pain. It hurt like no other, like a madman crushing her head with a large sledgehammer in a direly violent rampage. It circulated all around, not missing a single inch of her skull. The noise just added to the nerve-wracking throbbing. There was no place from where the noise started from; it was just there, like an unnoticed presence. There were no speakers or windows in her small padded cell. There was no way the noise could penetrate the walls. The girl was utterly encased in silence and solitude.

Yet the voices wouldn't shut up. They said whatever they wanted to say- the noise was enough to make any sane person scream. It was as if someone had stuck a miniature speaker in her ear and blew it up full blast. The girl desperately wanted them to stop.

Over and over again she screamed her sobs into the empty, desolate room, yet it stuck to no avail. This mindless chatter confused her horribly and she couldn't help but cry in her misery. The padded corner she had huddled up against gave no solace; no matter how far she shrunk back, the babble retained its volume. At last, the child could not take the pain.

The pretty little girl started banging her small head into a padded wall. It produced a small ache, nothing compared to that of the turmoil burning in her mind. She struggled valiantly to fight the tightly wound straightjacket holding her thin framed body. No matter how hard she pushed, the white padded walls of her cell bounced her farther back. Again and again she tried, anguished in the fact she could not stop the continuous pain. She took many tries, but to no avail; if anything, she received large bruises that encompassed the whole of her body.

Finally, the poor girl fell, unable to fight her restraints. She squirmed around, thrashing her legs, tossing and turning, shouting and screaming near obscenities nonstop, while incessantly beating her head on the padded floor. The room was too bright; the lights above her bright enough for her not to open her eyes.

Suddenly, strong hands gripped her small arms and yanked her up roughly. Confused, she looked around herself with racking sobs and tears pouring down her face. There were two men at her side, covered in dark green scrubs and weapons adorned at their sides.

"Make them stop," she pleaded desperately, "just please make them shut up!" she clenched her eyes shut then reopened them. White flashed at the corner of her eyes and grabbed her attention. In the doorway stood a tall man, in brown pants and a long white doctor's medical coat. He promptly motioned for the men to follow him. It was then when the child finally realized what was really happening.

Louder became her screams when she saw him. Frantic became her struggles to get free. The two burly guards held her taut and began to follow the doctor out the room. The small body kicked and screamed in protest. In a failed attempt she tried to yank her arms away from her captors. Her whole body jerked in a wild endeavor to break free. Occasionally the guards would have to pull her up in the air to have her follow. After a while her arms grew numb and tired, yet her cries intensified.

The group walked through desolate, lonely halls, each occupied with different cells. There were doors, laden with a glass window, to which each compartment began. Each cubicle had a wondering person who had heard the girl's cries from afar. They all pressed their faces in the small window to watch the rabid girl squirming viciously with tears pouring down her bruised face. Pity fell onto her; didn't she know it was easier not to object following and just to shut up? Fright cast onto her hazel green eyes, she watched, through her screams the many wandering faces through the windowpane, their noses and cheeks pressed up, steam fogging up the windows.

They passed dozens of windows of the same containments, turned many directions and crossed through many of the high security doors before entering a cold, dark room. It was a concrete, four-walled room with one door, no windows, and not an inch of color. Smack dab in the middle of the room was a gurney, barley sufficed with an inch thick cardboard like mattress. The side was attached with metal rails on the side. On these rails were leather straps on both sides. Two were at the foot, two attached at the middle, one at the head of the bed, and one near the neck. The guards lifted the squirming child on the bed, pushing her down long enough for the doctor to strap her head, neck, arms, and legs to the bed. The hold was tight, nearly cutting off circulation.

Around the bed were numerous machines, just yelling to be tried out. There was an experiment lab on the right of her, which was where the doctor stood, concentrating on mixing the chemicals in front of him. The girl looked at him in horror and prayed he didn't do what he did last time. She was utterly wrong.

Two female nurses came into the room, whispering something to each other. They stood by the door, and then came in the room once given unclear orders. One blonde nurse came up to the girl and started applying different patches on the girl's scantily clad body the second nurse had needles in her hand. She poked the needles harshly into the girl's skin, holding them in place with the patches. She barely felt the poke and prod of the nurses.

What her mind was really focused on was the doctor. From the corner of her eye she saw a beaker filled to the brim with Kool-Aid blue serum in it. The doctor placed a long, thick needle in the beaker, soaking up much of the beaker's contents. Her screams intensified as she saw him, her weak struggles became seizures. The doctor strode up momentarily to her, needle ready in hand, and then took a hold of her arm. Her movement wouldn't allow him to strike a vein and he tried hard to quiet her. The convulsions continued, as he grew quite agitated.

The two nurses tried to aid in holding her more but that only fueled her more. A popping sound crackled in back of them, then another, as if glass was shattering all around of them. The machines around them hay wired, beeping incessantly without cause. The doctor paid no mind, only barked at the nurses when they tried to figure out the cause of the mishaps. He pushed the needle into her skin only to have it pressed back out. Putting more weight in, he cried out exasperatedly, "Damnit! Hold on, Jean!" He poked the needle in her skin, hitting a vein immediately, and then injected all of the blue serum into it.

Immediately after, a burning sensation washed repeatedly over her increasingly difficult body. She let loose a deafening scream.

Rogue's violent shake awoke herself to an upright position and her eyes flung wide open. Bright, almost blinding sun-like lights filled her vision, bouncing off the whitewashed walls only to come back more radiant. Beds filled the room, along with medical equipment next to each. Bed bars held both sides of the bed she was placed on; white immaculate sheets bunched up around her. A gray finger tab held her delicately pale left ring finger; the constant beeping sound that accompanied the tab sounded at her left. After a long, foggy moment, Rogue recognized where she was.

"Oh jeez, what is it this time? Ugh…" she deadpanned, not wanting to believe her current position. She covered her face and groaned. A hearty chuckle answered her from the other side of the Med Bay. Following the sound bounced Beast, carrying a clipboard in one hand and a smile on his face.

"Something tells me you are growing quite a dislike of awaking here, am I right, my dear?" Hank asked.

"You would be too," she mumbled.

"Is it that my company bores you?" Hank teased.

"Hardly," she grumbled. Pain gnawed at the back of her head. Rogue lightly pressed the back of her head with two fingers. It felt tender and swollen. A bruise was already forming, a rather big one. "I swear, you may as well move my room down here, I'm here so much," she mumbled.

Hank laughed again.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

Rogue tried to hide her wince as she pressed the bruise again, somewhat harder. A muffled hiss escaped her mouth as pain branched out around her sore head. The psyches were hyper from the replay of Jean's memory and were giving her another unneeded headache.

"Just fine," she answered as levelly as she could, trying to pass off as peachy keen as she could.

"Are you sure? My reliable sources informed me that you did take quite a fall."

"Takes more of a fall to take me out, you know that," she dryly commented. A fall and psyche integration- now that's the magic combination.

He chuckled. "I also took the liberty of taking more chest x-rays. Your previous contusions haven't healed up completely, but there's no further injury from this accident. If anything, there will probably be only mild bruising. It's truly amazing you didn't receive a major head injury or broke more bones," Hank marveled, talking more to himself than Rogue at the prospect of it. Rogue snorted.

"Yeah, well that is something, isn't it?" she mumbled to herself as Hank pulled off her finger clip and copied her vitals on the clipboard. She hoped she gave him no indication that she should be an inpatient any longer than needed.

She looked around as he finished his work up of her. Everything was the same: sterile, white, cold, desolate… and horribly messy? She looked harder. Everything was disorganized, broken, or shoved around in a weird angle. She looked at Hank- even he looked disheveled. Well this was new. Hank wasn't the neatest person, he played the role of absentminded professor well, but he certainly wasn't this disorganized.

"Jeez, what happened here?"

Hank smiled, ruefully looking around his whirl winded Med Bay.

"Tornado Rogue, actually." Hank glanced at Rogue and grinned at her puzzled expression. "Jean's telekinesis activated while you were out." he explained.

"Seriously?" He nodded. She cringed.

"Hank, I'm really sorry. Can I clean up or something?" she asked hesitantly. Once again, someone had to clean up after the mess her powers made. Hank shook his head jovially.

"No, no, my dear. What I would like you to do, however, is rest," he advised, taking a doctor's tone again. He sighed.

"Which might be impossible since you do have visitors…" he trailed off loudly, aiming his voice to the door. He walked over and banged the door. In fell Kitty and Kurt, phasing through the doors with matching sheepish grins on their face. Hank chuckled and walked away.

"Hey, you're up!" Kitty squeaked, finally seeing Rogue. Kurt immediately bounced up and ran next to Rogue. He lunged on her and attacked her in a bear hug with his tail wagging behind him happily. "Mein schwester!"

"Kurt!" Rogue managed to gasp out. "Suffocating…as in… not breathing!" Kurt released his death grip on her, a tremendous smile pasted on his face.

"We were, like, starting to get really worried," Kitty told her.

"Ja, what happened out there?" Kurt asked.

"Yeah, I came to and saw you hit the ground pretty hard." Kitty's eyes widened as she remembered the sight of Rogue falling from mid-air.

"Jean's powers were too much. I lost control, I think," Rogue shrugged her shoulders. Keep it simple, she reminded herself. No need to really let them know the horrific inner workings of my powers. "Jean's up, right?"

"Yeah, Jean's totally alright," Kitty consoled her. "She woke up in time for classes. Too bad for her though." Kitty joked.

"And I take it I didn't wake up in time for school," she deadpanned.

"I, like, totally got your work for you?" Kitty smiled uneasily, attempting to make her feel better.

Rogue sighed. "What time is it? And why is there _still_ no clock in here, Hank?" she yelled to him. He just chuckled in response.

Kurt looked at his holowatch. "It's a little after eight."

"I'm guessing that's eight pm, right?" she drawled, unhappily, not even needing an answer. And another day of her shitty life just vanished. "God, I'm never going to graduate," she moaned into her hands.

Kitty rolled her eyes. "You'll graduate, so hush."

"Ja, and if not, you can spend an extra year with us!" Kurt jumped in his excitement.

"Oh goody," Rogue sighed under her breath. "Dr. McCoy, am I good to go?"

Hank popped his head out from around his large computer. "Well normally, I would say no, but seeing as your x-rays and vitals are fine and you have spent most of your residence here…" he trailed off, leaving Rogue to draw the conclusions. Rogue's eyes visibly brightened. That's all she needed to hear.

"Thanks, Dr. McCoy!" Rogue yanked back the covers and swung her feet over the edge. Standing, she swayed a bit trying to pick up her combat boots. Kitty and Kurt laughed. She shot them a _look_. Kitty and Kurt followed eagerly as she walked out of the Med Bay and down the hallway to the elevator.

"So what'd Logan say about this morning's session?" she asked, hesitantly awaiting the dreary answer as they entered the elevator. She laughed at the way Kitty and Kurt both painfully winced.

"Well, he, like, wasn't pleased at all," she confessed.

"Herr Logan yelled at us for letting so many of us get out."

"Like, especially since it took forever to finish."

"He was mad at the older members, ja?"

"Oh my gosh, _yes_. I, like, can't believe how harsh he was with us. Like, especially me and Jean for 'not keeping out guard up,'" she mocked Logan's voice. "Jeez, it's not, like, our fault you're a freaking ninja now," she blamed Rogue.

"Don't blame me that I took you both out and then some," Rogue replied smugly. "You were more than welcome to come to my extra training sessions."

"Ha, ha. Some people don't enjoy being totally icksome gross all the time like you, I guess." The elevator opened and they all spilled out.

"Speaking of _icksome_," she mocked Kitty's high pitched voice, "I feel gross. I'm going to go shower." She hoped this would dissuade them from spending the next day next to her side.

"But we were going to watch a movie!" Kurt protested.

Kitty narrowed her eyes. "And you, like, haven't eaten either."

"Well, I haven't showered, either, which is why I'm tackling that problem first." She felt her patience getting worn thin and her headache increasing, whether it was from the bump on her head or the voices in her head. She wanted a shower, some aspirin, and most importantly, she wanted to be alone in her room.

"Okay, well, have a fun shower." Kitty began dragging Kurt to the Rec Room. "I'll be up in a bit so we can tackle that second problem," she called back with a smile.

Rogue made her face. Kitty got her again. Rogue began her ascent to her room, hoping the shower would make her feel better. She snorted. Nothing could really make her feel better now.

* * *

She changed back into her clothes quickly and stepped out of the steaming bathroom. Now she was just cold and still slightly damp, and was feeling only marginally better. She crossed the hall quickly, not wanting to cross paths and socialize with someone roaming the halls. She fiddled the doorknob and entered her room quietly.

The room was an explosion due to her morning wake-up call. Clothes lay strewn hazardously around her room. Her vanity stood disheveled with makeup rolled on the ground. The covers were thrown back and crumpled in a heap at the foot of her bed. Rogue dropped her stuff aimlessly on the vanity and made her way to her bed. She curled up in a fetal position and just stayed there.

She wanted to sleep and to forget what had happened today. She wanted to forget about making an idiot of herself, losing control of someone else's powers, and knocking herself out cold for the rest of the day. Didn't matter that she got the flag- in all reality, she couldn't even bring the flag back to her team. And wasn't that the metaphorical point of the mission? Get the flag (or whatever recon item it would be in real life) and not be messed up enough at the end of the mission to bring it back to the team? She even failed at that. Once again, her powers proved to be the epitome of suck.

A light knocking disrupted her thoughts. Rogue didn't answer.

"I'm coming in. Hope you're dressed," Kitty sang. A second later, her head popped in, smiling deviously.

"Like, whoa. What happened here?" She stood baffled at the still curled up Goth.

Rogue made a face. "Six am happened." That was really all the explanation needed.

"Um, hello? Alarm clock?" Kitty looked around for one. "Where is yours?"

"Broken," she yawned, hoping it was distracting enough that Kitty didn't see the scorch marks on the electrical outlet. "Knocked it over," she lied. Actually, she zapped it pretty bad one night after a nightmare and ended up almost setting the mansion on fire. But Kitty didn't need to know that. Keep it simple.

"Hungry yet?" she asked.

"Not really. Kind of tired. I think I'm going to sleep," she yawned again. Not a lie, either.

Kitty gave her a weird look. "Tired? You spent the whole day sleeping!" Kitty exclaimed. Rogue snorted.

"Sleep? Ha! Try a coma," she snorted. A coma with brain activity and nightmares and telekinesis.

"Well, eating will help you sleep better, so up you go!"

Rogue groaned. "I'm fine," she stressed.

Kitty narrowed her eyes and placed her hands on her hip in a businesslike manner. "You look pale. You're eating."

"I'm really not hungry," came Rogue's swift reply.

"Go eat."

"No, I'm good." Both girls' glares matched each other, and then a mischievous glint flashed dangerously in the younger's eyes. A moment later, a slow, devious smile crept on to her face, created by obvious inspiration.

"Go eat… or else."

"Or else what?" she challenged. Kitty's smile widened to a gleeful smirk.

"Go eat, unless you want me to tell Hank you haven't been eating lately, so that he can stick you to a needle and force feed you in the _Med. Bay_."

Rogue's glare deepened and she shook her head in disgust.

"I hate you," she retorted, finally admitting defeat.

"And I love you," came Kitty's sweet response. The wicked smirk was now placed with a victorious and innocent smile. "Now, get up, we're going."

Rogue stared at her with ten different flavors of hatred. Kitty rolled her eyes and gave an exasperated sigh.

"So help me God, I _will_ phase you through the floor."

Make that eleven flavors.

"I'll totally get Mr. Logan involved."

That doing the trick, Rogue begrudgingly set rolled off the bed, a pained expression stamped on her face and a murderous groan out of her mouth. She followed the perky brunette to the kitchen without a word. Upon entrance, Kitty leaned on the counter, arms folded, and triumph in her eyes. Rogue stood in the doorway, looking back at Kitty.

"What?"

"Eat!"

A heaved sigh escaped Rogue's mouth. One look around the kitchen ordered her in a deep scavenger hunt through the multiple pantries of the kitchen. Nothing appealed to her vanished appetite. The last pantry door shut as Rogue gave Kitty a pleading look. Kitty gave her a withering, no-nonsense stare.

"Are you totally serious? Out of the millions of cereals, soups, cans, even leftovers?" she asked incredulously. Only a half hearted shrug was returned. "Sit," she commanded. Rogue feebly moved to the nearby stool and hid against a wall that she was appointed to. Kitty walked around, gathering items from the panties as she went.

"Why are you doing this?" Rogue asked suddenly. The quiet of the kitchen unnerved her. Kitty lifted her head from out of the refrigerator door.

"Because you need to eat more. Kurt thinks so too."

Her voice was strange. It was sincere, offhand, rehearsed, guarded. Rogue knew Kitty wanted to say more, but Rogue wasn't exactly the "pour your heart out to" type. Kitty was censoring her concern- and Rogue was thankful and felt oddly touched. A ghost of a smile appeared on her face.

"Oh Kit-kat…" Rogue was cut off as the swinging door leading to the Rec Room swung open. Both girls swung their heads with it to meet their visitor.

"Thought I told you it was curfew, Half-Pint," came Logan's gruff voice.

"It's my fault, Logan, she's making me dinner," Rogue piped up quickly, revealing herself behind the safety of the cabinets. Logan's eyes adverted to Rogue, and slightly softened.

"Stripes, when'd you get up?" he changed the subject.

"Not too long ago," she rolled her eyes, still annoyed by how long she slept. Logan looked back at Kitty, who had already placed the jelly and bread on the table, and was now half phased through a pantry. She soon emerged victorious, peanut butter in hand. She set to work, spreading the jelly onto the bread lavishly. Logan turned his attention back to Rogue.

"Uh, Stripes," he started, grabbing her attention, running his hands awkwardly through his hair. "Good job on earlier." Rogue scoffed.

"Which part? Losing control or putting myself into a coma?" she remarked sarcastically, smelling the peanut butter that Kitty was opening. It… looked weird to her, foreign almost. Not a good vague feeling. Alarm bells started ringing as she watched Kitty.

Logan smirked. "For lasting the longest and grabbing the flag."

"Right," she scoffed. She watched Kitty intently for some reason, as if the peanut butter was fascinating. Something felt off as Kitty reached into the jar with a knife. The Jiffy was about to be layered on the bread when something finally clicked in her head.

"Kit, wait!" she startled her. "I'm allergic to peanut butter." They looked at her like she was talking in German.

"Since when?" Logan asked. Creases appeared on Rogue's forehead, as if she was trying to remember. A blank came to her mind.

"You're not allergic to peanut butter," Kitty reminded her quietly. "Scott is." Rogue pondered her own memories.

No, she wasn't allergic to peanut butter, or anything else for that matter. Where had that come from? Jean's memories more than likely. A girlfriend would know that offhand.

"Yeah… never mind about that," she slowly replied, still trying to get a grip on her head. After that, all was quiet.

"When yer done, straight to bed," Logan said finally. He turned and left wordlessly.

Kitty finally finished up the sandwich and handed it to Rogue.

"Eat," she ordered again. "All of it." Rogue looked at Kitty.

"Thanks, Kit," she replied begrudgingly, taking a bite. Kitty watched her intently.

"You, like, really need to eat more," she started, conjuring up a huge glass of milk and sliding it her way.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Rogue replied, slowly making her way through the sandwich. Kitty was watching her a little too intently, and it was unnerving. She knew how to fix this. "So uh… how was school?"

Kitty's eyes widened dramatically.

"Like, oh my gosh! You would not believe Lance and them!" she started, arms flailing. Rogue smiled into her glass of milk. Works every time. She smiled and nodded along with the occasional "mmhm" interjection. Nothing else was needed on her part.

"And then so _I_ was like-"

"Kitty, child? I'm quite certain Logan called curfew a bit ago," came Ororo's mothering voice.

Kitty's eyes widened in alarm. Caught. Rogue poked her head out behind her hiding spot quickly.

"Sorry, Ms. Monroe, I just got up a bit ago and Kitty was making me dinner," Rogue apologized.

"Ah, Rogue. It's good to see you up. How are you feeling?"

"Awake," she shrugged. She couldn't say she was fine or better (because that would be lying and lying is bad).

"Oh!" Kitty exclaimed, scrambling from her seat, and phasing through everything in her path. She ran through the door and came back seconds later carrying a piece of paper.

"I, like, totally couldn't find you earlier, but someone called for you, Ms. Monroe!" she exclaimed. She handed the paper to Ororo's puzzled face. "He, like, didn't leave a name, but he did leave his number."

"What did he say, child?"

Kitty scrunched her face. "Well, it was like, really hard to understand him. I think he was, like, switching between English and Spanish or something, but he said something like, to let you know that someone's being sent your way? I don't really know, it was totally cryptic."

Ororo smiled faintly, looking at the piece of paper.

"Did he need me to call back right away?"

"Mmm, he said like, looked forward to hear your voice again. He sounded super sexy though," she giggled. "Does this, like, mean we're getting a new recruit soon?"

Ororo laugh quietly. "Quite possibly, child, but only time will tell." She folded up the paper and placed it in her pocket. "Now, off to your rooms, both of you. No need to conjure up idle gossip," the weather witch mused.

Rogue got up and put her dishes away in the dishwasher.

"Night, Ms. Monroe," they called as they hurried upstairs.

Ororo finished her nightly rounds and quickly retired to her room. She began to ready herself for bed, cleaning and organizing her quarters as she went. She pulled out the piece of paper from her pocket and promptly ripped it into miniscule, unrecognizable pieces before throwing it in the wastebasket. A single glance told her the number was a fake- all it spelt out was OMonroe. She chuckled as she picked up her phone and dialed a number by heart.

"_Bon soir, _Ororo," came a silky voice from the other side.

"Ah, Jean-Luc. How nice to hear from you again. It's been a while," she shook her head, thoroughly amused with his debonair attitude.

"_Et vous aussi, cherie._ I was getting worried your student didn't pass on the message," he confessed lightly.

"You know how young students are. Distractible and excitable, especially when you tell them someone's coming for dinner…"

"Kids will be kids, Storm." His voice took a tired turn, no longer laced with charming undertones.

Ororo sighed. Very few things could kill a Cajun's suave demeanor.

"Oh dear. What is it this time?"

* * *

He pondered on the final words of his father before he started his bike and flew out of what was once his home.

"Get out of here quickly, _mon fils_. And if I can never see you again, just remember this: you still have a heart, so don't try to hide it."

He assumed it would be the last cryptic message he'd ever get from his adopted father. And obscure it was. The guild's head had always given him vague advice since he was a child, but he'd always figured it out sooner rather than later. But this one? It was a rather unneeded headache.

If this was his way of being fatherly for once, it was a bit too late. It was a bitter thought, but with the recent events, could you blame a guy for reviewing his father's inherent goodness? His exile wasn't surprising- it would have happened sooner or later, he figured. He was a rogue, so to speak. Sure, he loved his family and his heritage, but it's implications for the rest of his life was too restricting to say the least.

It was a quiet, ominous night in the back roads going north. Moonlight bounced off of the untouched road. No one came, no one went. He revved and pursued the twisted path, not bothering to admire the inhospitable scenery before him. He could stop, admire the scenery, but there's a good chance it would be his final resting place. Not that he shirked in the face of danger, except he'd hate for his family (oh the tears his _Tante _would shed!) to hear the news of him dead and gone with no one in the world to care for him, and by guild law, they'd be even unable to give him a proper funeral.

He thought about the last time he ran this path. You could have called him a runaway then- he had hired himself out to Magneto to run away from everything south of the Mason-Dixon Line. He knew eventually all of it would catch up to him again, to haunt him again, to beckon his return again. It was inevitable. His past would always find him; it would rear its ugly head when things were beginning to change. He hesitated to wonder if it would follow him into his new life.

He pulled into a sparsely lit station and rolled up against a pump. He pulled his sunglasses on- these country folk didn't take well to his kind. He reached inside his pocket and pulled out a few bills and handed it to attending inside- a poor sap looking dead on his feet and drained of all will to live.

"Fill her up and keep the change," he spoke smoothly, quickly. The guy looked horribly grateful. He gave the man a quick lopsided smile and strolled out quickly. Take from the rich, give to the poor.

He shoved the nozzle into his bike, and took a step away, quickly lighting up a cigarette with his fingertips. Quick in and out, keep his accent hidden, keep social interaction to a minimum until he got north of the Mason-Dixon. And then…

And then what? He wasn't normally the type to stress over the details. Be like the swamp-trash and go with the flow was his typical mantra. He just needed a general direction and his lady luck by his side. But he had always had back up plans, usually his family and their connections. But now, he honestly didn't know what he was doing. He was a thief by nature- things changed and he had to be ready to adapt to sudden complications. It was the story of his life, really.

But now he had nothing to rely on except his reputation as a Master Thief. If he really thought about it, he didn't need another good heist for a while- his prior accomplishments would keep him afloat for a while. What did he really need to do now, besides lay low for a little bit, before the bloodhounds came after him? He was now a free man, a free bachelor in the prime of his adulthood- rich, single, and… full of baggage. All that aside, he really had no need to weigh his options for quite awhile.

But he knew that would get boring, quick. He wasn't one for keeping low, especially without the direct protection of the guild. He needed new alliances, and fast. He knew there were two routes he could go, and he was stuck pondering the fork in the road he was at- or would be at in a few short hours.

He stubbed the cigarette with the toe of his boot and made it back to his bike. He unhooked his bike and capped it shut. He gave a salute to the help and kicked his bike to life. Who knows how long he had been on the road- he had barely made it halfway through Tennessee, he had guessed. While he wasn't as familiar with the layout of the nation, he figured he still had a few states to pass through before he was safe, a few more hours on the road until he could sleep well.

Until then, he figured he could set up some kind of game plan, maybe set up some alliances. His father offhandedly and frequently mentioned in the last few days "going up north" or "going back up to that town you were at before" or Remy's personal favorite, "whatever happened to that girl who could do all that with the touch of her finger?" He remembered the tone of his voice, suggestive and scheming. Jean-Luc knew damn well what was up there- it was almost as if he had been planning for his exile.

Remy sighed. It would do no good now to think of his father who had seemingly fought the elders for his son's right to stay in his home town up until the very end as a scheming one-jump-ahead-of-the-bread-line thief. Even Jean-Luc had figured his slippery son would eventually turn to a fate such as this.

And Remy could read between the lines like it was a second language. He remembered the contact his father had at one time. In fact, had his father realized his contact was with the other team, Remy could bet the spoils of a good heist that he would have ended up on the other side of the mutant war. He wouldn't have ended up with Magneto, and hell, he probably wouldn't be in this situation to begin at all- well, not at least for a few more years.

And he knew what his father was hinting, with the offhanded "What about them northern states, Remy? You liked it just fine up there, _hein_?" He knew that there was a good chance his father had set him up with a "residence" without telling him directly and he was trying to point him in the right direction. 'I don't like being pushed in any direction, got it?' rang hotly through his ear. He chuckled. Was this ever a time to remember such a catchy phrase.

He knew how that place ran. He had heard of the defects and he knew some insiders. You wouldn't be forced to sign a contract-no, this place was much more amiable than that. From what it sounded like, they guilted you into staying, with their superhero-save-the-world-lets-make-a-difference mentality. At least, that's how St. John put it painfully. But John was just like his element- a fire. He needed freedom to burn.

Piotr on the other hand, was more suited to the lifestyle. Granted, he was never an evil person to begin with- he was just the victim of unfortunate circumstances. Now, he was in his rightful place, and was he glowing with Russian tinged praises about this place, that the X-Man life was good and righteous, that it was the place he could see himself living for a very long time.

Which led to Remy's debate. He had either two options in front of him.

Magneto was no longer an Acolyte leader, meaning he was no longer employed as an Acolyte. He could do his own freelance work up there, using his thieving skills to make a comfortable life. A stolen life, of course, but a life after all. It represented all flavors of freedom and whims that he had ever enjoyed in his life. Of course, he'd have to watch his back carefully.

Or he could teeter towards the X-Man life, join his former Acolytes, and fight the good fight with his shady undertones. He had no doubt his father hadn't wasted any time informing Storm of his arrival to the north, whether it be for a new alliance for either of them, or an explanation of the ruckus of explosions he would undoubtedly bring with him to the area. An offer or a warning. A wild card. Take it as is and accept its consequences.

He just didn't know. Either way, something was calling to him. Maybe his lady luck, he mused, was taking him in the right direction or on the search for nothing. He had nothing to gain, nothing to lose.

His father's last words left many interpretations to be explored.

* * *

Hello all. The second chapter in one week! It's a record for me, I think. Again, you'll notice that this has many and similar elements of Tormented Sanity. There's similar scenes, but what you _ideally_ will notice is the subtle changes in ideology, mannerisms, etc. This beginning (I hope) is the pivotal beginning to character development, etc.

Anyways, thank you all for the reviews AND the bajillions of author alerts and likes and such! I'm really glad people are enjoying my fics and taking the time to alert me and review me. I'll try to send out thank yous and such, but as of today I have oodles of work to do, as finals week is pretty much one week away…

But anywho! I'm hoping my writing style has become easier and less droney, as I've done a lot of research on how to really do a story line (in terms of reading A LOT of awesome stories on here!) and the last 4 years have definitely changed some of my thinking and writing abilities. So thank you for the reviews and don't forget to review more plz! Even one worded flames will be welcomed.

Toodles!


	3. None of That Sadness on a Friday Night!

**Title: The Wreckage**

**Disclaimer: I don't even own the rights to my soon to be college degrees and will not for many, many, many years… It's called a starving student, and by the state of my fridge, I'm living the dream.**

**Pairing: Rogue and Remy**

**Rating: Teen/Mature**

**Warnings: Contains dark and adult themes**

**Summary: It's what happens when two sides collide. The explosion between what you want and what you need, what's right and what's wrong. It's the wreckage. And it could be so easy. ROMY.**

**The Wreckage**

**Chapter Three**

**None of That Sadness on a Friday Night!**

"Oh come _on_, Rogue, we're leaving!" followed Kitty's banging on her bedroom door.

"Gimme a minute!" she hollered back, combing through her straightened hair one last time. She was tired again, in a perpetual haze called reality. Wake up, school, nothing, sleep, repeat; add a training session every so often and a lot of headaches, forgetfulness, confusion, and nightmares to fill in the cracks of her sanity. Sprinkle with extra homework to make up for the last ten times you couldn't go to school and you had yourself the special recipe for a Friday.

She took one last look in the mirror. Pale with sleep rings was on the menu today. Her makeup probably wasn't flattering at this point, but did it really matter? There was no point in impressing anyone.

"Rogue!" She heard Kitty holler from downstairs.

Rogue grabbed her bag as she slammed the door shut. "I'm coming!" She hollered back, storming down the stairs, glaring at the kids who were in her way. They all backed away, fearful for their appendages.

She entered the kitchen, where she was certain Kitty was waiting for her.

And she was. With a glass of orange juice in hand.

"Drink," she gave a stern pointed 'I'm, like, not joking around' look.

Rogue rolled her eyes as she grabbed the juice and downed it, slamming it down on the counter.

"We good now?"

Kitty smiled sweetly as she pulled out a muffin and banana from behind her back. "Nope, but you can eat these in the car. Let's go!"

She smacked the food in Rogues hand as she pulled her towards the garage, phasing through everything in her path.

They entered the garage, the kids already in the X-Van. Kitty hopped into the driver's seat and Rogue into her standard, hard won shotgun throne. Kitty started up the van and shot Rogue an expecting look as she pulled out hazardously. Rogue rolled her eyes and took a bite of the muffin. In these situations, it was better to just go with it than suffer the guilt trip later.

She stuffed the banana in her bag as she left the car. The muffin would appease Kitty for the time being- or at least it'd have to.

She looked at her high school and sighed. Another day of mindlessness and zoning out and stupidity. One step closer to graduation… and then what? What was there to look forward to anymore?

And as she walked away, "Rogue, I'll, like, see you at lunch, 'kay?" Rogue turned to refuse, but Kitty was already gone.

'That sneaky… she got me again…'

* * *

How she was convinced to go out with a swarm of teenagers, she'll never know. Kitty preyed on her weaknesses now, she was sure of it. Kitty must have waited until the opportune time in Rogue's REM cycle during lunch to ask her that question. Rogue hadn't heard the question to begin with, but she heard her name for sure, and woken up startled, confused, and "Mmhmm, yeah, sure…" was the first thing out of her mouth. Followed was "Wait… what?"

And Kitty the ringleader was positively gleeful. The only way Rogue could get out of a promise with Kitty was the Mutant Apocalypse- and that was already said and done. At this point, it was better to silently endure the chatter and horseplay and… couple-age.

Rogue made a face. She knew Kitty didn't plan for this to be a super-date night- the older X-Men were all friends… and all conveniently paired up with someone (with the exception of Rogue) … Jean and Scott; Kurt and Amanda; Kitty and… Piotr? And Rogue. The… seventh wheel. Again.

Granted, no one had really done the whole couple charade yet. Scott and Jean were just too cautious and awkwardly/obviously in love. Kurt and Amanda… well, they were too goofy to be serious, but the sentiment was still there. And Kitty and Piotr… who knew if they were really together yet, or she had just asked him for the sake of getting him out of the mansion and into her prospective "boyfriend list." Rogue couldn't keep up with the Lance-Kitty-Piotr triangle and if she asked, she'd end up just being more lost.

Rogue fiddled with her glove as they waited outside, waiting for Kitty to return with the tickets. It was cold and she felt out of place with the chatter and laughter surrounding her. She pulled her black wool coat around her tighter and shuffled her feet. What she would give to be alone in her room right now.

Kitty pranced over, grinning as she handed out the tickets.

"What are we even seeing?" Kitty handed Rogue a ticket stub with a sneaky grin. Rogue looked down. "Life as we know it?" She turned around to look at the movie posters. "Is this… a chick flick?"

"Yep!" Kitty exclaimed happily. "None of that sad stuff on a Friday night!"

Rogue internally groaned. Her first mistake was falling asleep. Her second mistake was not fighting for the movie of the night. '_Think,_ Rogue, _think!_'

"Oh come on! It's Katherine Heigl- she's amazing and you know it. Now come _on_," She pulled Rogue towards the theater entrance.

And as she was being pulled, her eyes veered towards the left, down the sidewalk, to the bar with people spilling out of its entrance- to the tall man in the long trench coat and shaggy brown hair, leaning against the wall with a cigarette dangling from his lips.

Her jaw started clenching as his eyes lifted, almost meeting hers as Kitty pulled her into the theater and away from his smoldering smirk.

Oh… Oh god why…

Her heart flared and her body flushed and if it wasn't for attracting attention to herself, she would have yanked her arm out of Kitty's death grip and storm over to see if it was really him. She would scream "fuck your popcorn" and run out recklessly to that bar like a madwoman and see for herself if it was him.

But she forced herself to stay firmly rooted in the snacks line, muscles slightly quivering with irritated anticipation. Mind over body, she chanted. There was no reason to confirm. There was no reason to look stupid- if anything there was a reason to be apprehensive and suspicious and _stay_ with her group of friends. Which is why she was _not_ leaving alone. Safety in numbers with other trained mutants- yes, this was the better choice.

It didn't mean she had to like it. She just wanted a quick glance. Curiosity killed the cat and all that jazz. And if she slipped out right now, "needing to use the lil girls room," no one would be the wiser, she could miss the previews, and then she would be appeased.

But they squished her in. God, they _knew_. Kitty pushed her in the aisle to make sure she didn't escape. _What a bitch_.

The theater darkened and the popcorn floated over towards her. She jumped.

"Jeez, Rogue," Kurt yanked the popcorn back before she could knock it over. "The movie hasn't even started yet. No need to be scared."

"The thought of it alone is enough to give me nightmares," she retorted dryly, grabbing the popcorn back, popping a kernel in her mouth, and passing it along the line.

And from then on she had tried her hardest to not jump when anyone tried to grab her attention and look interested in the movie so that no one would call for her attention. But really, how could she not be paranoid and preoccupied? Especially if all the training Logan made her go through since her Louisiana adventure had been in preparation for a possible repeat.

"Over protective much?" she snorted when he told her about the change in her training.

"Better safe than sorry," he grunted when she protested.

And how she was biting her tongue now, mentally going through everything Logan had taught her: all the possible angles she could be attacked, all the possible weapons she could use without using her skin, and lastly, how _good_ it would feel to use everything she knew.

And before she knew it, the lights were back on and Kitty was gushing in her ear "Like, oh my gosh wasn't that great or what!"

"I'd go with 'or what'…" she muttered, scanning the now lit theater. It _looked_ clear.

And as everyone got up to leave, she began to brace herself. There were very few things that could happen after she left the theater.

And as they entered the lobby, she felt her vision get sharper and her muscles taut. She was with the X-Men, she'd be okay regardless- no _need_ to do this alone…

Her breath caught in her throat as she crossed the doors into the cold winter. Oh god…

He wasn't there.

She let out the breath she was holding. He wasn't to be found near the bar entrance anymore or in any public area nearby. This… was a good thing.

And she snorted at herself as she walked with the group to the car. Why _would_ he be out here still? It's cold and that was a 2 hour movie and he was at a _bar_ in which sluts _would_ be asking to go home with him. If he had wanted to make a move, he'd have either done it already, teammates be damned, or he'd wait until she was alone again. Yeah, this made more sense.

Or… maybe nothing was going to happen in any case. Maybe it _was_ him and he intended no harm. Or maybe it _wasn't_ him at all. Maybe she had spent the last 2 hours being restless for no reason. Or maybe her powers were doing some weird astral plane projection and she was going crazy.

She trailed behind her teammates feeling utterly disappointed and relieved. What did she really expect? That she'd be able to recover some of her pride and dignity if he even attempted a sneak attack? Or (least likely) that he'd come up and just apologize to her?

She shoved her hands in her coat pockets, trailing her teammates as they headed into the parking garage's stairs. She took the first step, then the second, then the third… and stopped.

Was…was that a spicy cigarette she smelt?

She felt her body stiffen instinctively, fists clenched and knees slightly bent. She felt it now- the feelings of eyes on her. She turned around and looked down into the first layer of the parking garage- nothing. She walked more slowly up the remaining flight of stairs. Nothing on the second floor. _And _the smell was fading.

And by chance her head twisted to the side, catching the sound of silent footsteps in puddles of rain in the alley adjacent to the stairs. She could see the smoke drifting up and disappearing. She closed in on the rail and glanced over.

Careless, infuriating, lean, arrogant. Everything about him screamed it. He wagged his eyebrows with his cigarette dangling from his curling lips.

Well, she _had_ wanted answers.

He held her dispassionate, unyielding gaze. She just couldn't tell what his intentions really were… and she wasn't about to unveil hers.

"Hurry up, Rogue! It's freezing!" Kitty's voice echoed through the stairwell.

She glared apathetically at for just a moment longer before slightly scoffing and she continuing up the stairwell. He'd gotten to her then and now. But she'd get her chance…

And as the bike roared to life, she swore she heard a whistled rendition of Dixie follow her into the car.

"Jeez, get distracted much?" Kurt teased.

"Just a bit," she muttered sullenly, sinking into her seat. What a way to start a weekend.

* * *

She jolted awake, heart racing, and eyes darting around the room. She groped the covers twisted around her sweaty body.

Her room.

She was in her room, her room in the Mansion. It was late (late enough to be early), according to the obnoxious new alarm clock Kitty made her get last week.

She was in her room, in her body, stuck with the same mutation she had for the last few years.

She wasn't childishly running around the playground with her school friends, winding around the teacups, laughing and smiling. She wasn't roughhousing with the boys down the park hill and getting her knees dirty and hands scraped up. She wasn't at the pool, splashing her friends and racing them down to the big girl diving board. She wasn't being called home to dinner by Irene and Mama, who had just come home from her month-long business trip and brought her candy and presents and a hug and smile just for her. She wasn't happy and carefree.

No, she was in her room at the mansion, staring at the mounds of dark, concealing clothes littering her floor; the same dark, concealing clothes that had been her unnecessary fate for probably years before her mutation actually started. Since the day Irene had set her down and told her the doctor called about her blood results and he had some sad news. Sad news that involved new clothes that made her feel sticky all the time, less time being outside, and worst of all- lonely. Again.

And as she slumps against the side of her bed, she remembers the most annoying part of these memories, whenever they came back to haunt her. It wasn't the reopening of past wounds- knowing that her foster mother and aunt had lied to her for so many years, and molded her into the sullen, thoroughly depressed girl she was today.

No, the most devastating part of reliving her own memories was remembering how _happy_ she was as a child. It was like a string dangling in front of a cat's face- a quick reminder of how she'd never be that happy again and how her mutation had dampened her life. And whenever she'd try to grab the string, she'd wake up, and remember, and plummet down into her dark reality…

She let her gaze fall numbly down to her bleeding arms. They looked so unfamiliar, the strawberry train tracks running up and down her snowy arms. She didn't recognize them; it was as if they were some other girl's arms- some other girl with some other life.

And it wasn't that she so devastated by her lot in life. She had moved on from the blind hope she once had. She was untouchable, through and through, and it wasn't changing. She would never touch, never fully love- and she had finally come to terms with her life. She'd be fully wrapped up, like a porcelain doll, forever- but she was _okay_ with it.

She wiped some blood from dripping onto the carpet.

This had been her life for some time now, but it hadn't taken over until after Apocalypse. The guilt of sending a child into a coma for over a week… yes, Leech and his mother had forgiven her (who wouldn't, considering she had nearly single-handedly saved the world from Apocalypse, which was her fault to begin with), but the thrum of voices in the back of her mind were the constant reminder of how much she _sucked_. Literally.

She didn't know how she let herself get to _this_ point. She couldn't hold back the waterfall of voices as well as she normally could, the associated memories as well. It became apparent in her sleep first. The nightmares were the first indicator that the wall she had built between herself and the psyches was crumbling.

At that point, she had upped the amount of sessions she had with the Professor. Every day it became more and more apparent that whatever they had been doing wasn't working anymore. Something had changed when Apocalypse had touched her.

And she remembered the feeling well: the ripping of imbedded psyches from her mind, the draining of her life and energy, the massacre of every foundation of her powers she had ever built. Really, he had raped her mind and destroyed the remnants with his touch. It was as if she had built a map in the sand and a tornado had gone through her mind and destroyed any evidence that she had been there. She was lost and didn't know what or how to do anything anymore.

So the professor had suggested they start again, like a brand new clean slate. Except nothing was working anymore. Everything in her head was tender and it hurt to do anything. The walls that she had built up weren't nearly as strong and everything was slipping through the cracks. Her sanity as well. It was like she'd build a shoddy shack to keep everything in, but by nightfall, the storms of her mind blew it down, with her crying wee-wee-wee, all the way home.

And she had decided to stop the sessions with the Professor. It wasn't doing any good and she just felt violated and only came out with a headache and mildly set up barriers that still let everything through its shoddy cracks by nightfall.

She had tried the exercises the Professor taught her, but they didn't help any more than they did with him. She still had the nightmares, she still had the voices muttering in the back of her head, she still had their personality emerge at the _best_ possible times. She was still tired, untouchable, and thoroughly unhappy.

_But how did it get like this?_ She stared at her mangled arms. When did she become so dependent on slashing her arms to clear her head and remember that she was her own person?

She remembered that first time bitterly. She was angry at life already, with her living situation especially. Living with idiots at the Brotherhood, being forced to accompany said idiots on idiotic missions, no edible food, nothing, not having even a goddamned lock on her door… needless to say she was going crazy. There was always an issue between the boys that always ended up in the house shaking, braking, or being bathed in Toad smell. There was never any hot water, privacy, electricity, etc…

So when she entered the freezing cold shower, in a house that was already shaking too early in the morning, she was pissed. Shaving in cold water sucked as it was, and when Lance let loose a jolting shake… well, it's easy to imagine what happened. It was forever ago, but the relief never faded every time she did it.

She imagined over the years she had gained suspicion by her friends and the general public. She was a sulking goth and had resembled the culture to a T. Maybe the rest of the world scathingly expected her to do it and just rolled their eyes. Maybe they didn't think she was capable of that. Maybe the world was just stupid. She wasn't stupid though. She knew what it would look like to everyone else and she was glad to keep it a secret. It was herself medication to the mess of her mind; no one else would understand and for the time being, she didn't give a fuck. Why should she? Nothing else was working as immediate as this.

And just like her mind was a clean slate every day, there were times in which her body would be too. That was the sick beauty of it- some days there would be no reminder of the war she fought with herself. The scars would come and vanish with Logan's healing ability. She had taken his powers on some occasion, before she realized the cost for healing after a battle was just too much mentally. So as of late, the scars had been building and she had been more cautious. She had stopped her sessions with the professor for this reason too- one look into her memories and she was sure she'd be 5150-ed before she realized what had happened.

And as she stared at her bloody arms, she supposed desolately that she should recognize them, or at least learn to. Who was she kidding? She was in a hopeless situation and this was the only "cure" for her. This was her life now. With everything that had happened since her mutation manifested, she had lost hope. The likelihood of her situation changing was slim and it only made her slice harder. What a life.

Her vision dotted as she walked across the room to find her bandages and a clean towel. It could be due to sleepiness (having woken up in the middle of the night), not eating as much (she just didn't have an appetite, okay?), or maybe those last few slashes weren't such a good idea…

Regardless, the dizziness was enough to put her back to a nice, dreamless, memory-less sleep…

This was the minced green onions on her life entrée. The sprig of parsley? It was Sunday night. What a fantastic way to end the endless weekend and start the endless week.

* * *

She rubbed her temples in annoyance. Wasn't this day over yet? The last few classes had dragged on, but this was just ridiculous. The clock seemed to go backwards every time she took a pleading glance. Her foot tapped impatiently. It wasn't as if she had anything to do today, like any day, but anywhere was better than school these days.

She glanced outside, seeing the X-Van just waiting right next to Lance's Jeep. She sighed. She was not in a particularly sociable mood.

Finally the bell rang and she tossed her bag over her shoulder. No rush, there wasn't a reason, only a lot of people around.

She met Kurt by her locker, all ready to leave.

"You ready?"

She couldn't stop her face from cringing as she stuffed her bag full of her lockers contents

"Actually… I think I'm going to walk home," she replied slowly. Yes, this sounded like a much better option.

"What? All alone? Why?"

She reached the bottom of her locker, finding her latest book of the week. She took it out, a small smile of inspiration on her face and nonchalantly flipped it towards Kurt.

"I think I'm going to go to that café again. You know, the one Wanda recommended."

Kurt made a face. "Coffee! Reading! Gross."

"Not all of us have boundless amounts of energy," Rogue retorted.

He made a face, morals conflicting. "Do you need a buddy? It's not safe to be alone…"

She snorted. "I'm probably the most dangerous thing out there."

Kurt still looked worried.

She gave him a small smile. "I'll be fine, Kurt."

"Fine then," he sighed, a sudden realization dawning on him. "I call shotgun!" he pumped his hands in the air.

"All yours," she muttered. "Mind breaking the news to Kitty?"

"Ja. Will we see you at dinner?"

"Kitty wouldn't have it any other way," she rolled her eyes.

"Don't be so down!" he clapped his hand on her back. "It's Kitty's turn for dinner, so it's take out night!" he called out as he bounced away. Rogue could almost imagine his tail wagging at the thought of take out.

She closed her locker and swung her bag over her should, walking the nearly deserted halls out into the middle of the city.

And as she got to the door of the café (nearby the movie theater they had been at last week), she rubbed the back of her neck self consciously. She felt a little tingly sensation caress her neck and shoot down her back. She turned around subtly as she walked through the door. Nobody was there.

She went up to the cashier and immediately noted his double take of her. The stripes, she sighed, gave it away every time. She saw his struggle to not step back, to not sound scared.

"Just give me a double shot," she deadpanned. She knew the drill, placing the money on the table instead of in his hands. She waited at a table, for his shaking hands to hurry up and make a drink.

"Order's up," she heard him call out meekly. She walked and grabbed the drink without giving him notice. He wouldn't be nearby; in fact, he'd probably be standing by the register and tip jar to make sure the "mutant scum" didn't get any ideas. She rolled her eyes and just sat down near the window.

Pulling at her book and flipping to her bookmark, she felt the feeling again. She rubbed her neck again. What the heck was it?

A few pages passed before it came back again. That "someone's watching you" feeling. She glanced out of her peripherals. Nothing felt inherently dangerous, her trained senses told her that, but with the anti-mutant sentiments, she couldn't be careful enough.

She had taken an initial survey of the patrons of the café when she walked in. She was only the second person who stayed after ordering. That would make at least 3 people present, not counting anyone in the back. She took notice of the cameras around the room- two in the immediate vicinity, probably more in the back.

She turned her peripheral attention to the outside. Only random pedestrians walked the sidewalks. She hadn't noticed anyone lingering or passing by twice. She turned her head, trying to look nonchalant and non suspicious as she gazed out the window. Nothing _looked _suspicious.

Grabbing her drink, she sighed. It could be her tiredness that was making her paranoid. It could be the general news, with its tales of anti-mutant protests and violence. She was somewhat well known in Bayville now. Her hair and style gave it away every time. She tried to focus on the book again, hardly being immersed in it as she had hoped.

But now she was distracted. The feeling was obnoxious. It was present and she couldn't deny it now. She set her book down and stared straight outside into the tinted windows of the building across the street.

Tinted windows, meaning she couldn't see in, but they could see out. She looked closer at the signs. The beer insignias, the flashing open sign, and the obvious "21 and over only" sign...

It was a bar. The same bar she had passed the other night. The same bar she had…

She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples with one hand. So much for a quiet afternoon away from humanity. When she opened her eyes, she rolled her eyes at the tinted windows, picked up her book and coffee and moved to the back of the café. She was pretty sure anything that could happen wouldn't be ideal for prying eyes (and the victim count would be considerably less if she moved). She sat and faced the tinted windows and opened her book again. She sipped her coffee as she read.

It wasn't long before she felt the eyes on her again and for longer. And after that, she heard the faint squeaking of the door open and cold air rush in. She smirked: he could stop a bell from ringing but not the door from squeaking. She refused to look up. She didn't want to give him the benefit.

She felt his presence silently loom closer and soon his scent followed too. Cigarettes, spice, and a hint of bourbon. Classy.

"I could have sworn there weren't any swamps in Bayville. Now what is that god awful smell then?" she mused mockingly in an accentuated, annoyed southern lit as she turned the page of her book. She could almost hear the smirk form on his face.

"And last I checked, Bayville is surrounded by a bay. What's a river rat like you doing so far from the Missizip still?"

Begrudgingly and only to herself, she would later admit it was refreshing to hear a fellow southerner speak, even if it was a Cajun.

"Tryin' to get away from the likes of you," she muttered as sipped her coffee, still focused on her book. He sat down in front of her, grinning.

"Aw, and here I thought we had a good time in the bayou," he feigned hurt.

"Killer time," she deadpanned.

He chuckled, leaning back in the chair nonchalantly.

She finally lifted her eyes to him.

And there he was, smirking at her with his Adonis face and devil eyes. His hair was shaggy and smooth around his face- he wasn't wearing his headpiece and his face held a 5 o'clock shadow. Her heart stuttered a bit. How annoying.

"Thought you'd have been fed to the gators by now." She flipped a page, giving him her best uninterested, unimpressed face.

"Jean-Luc would never allow such a waste of talent and looks," he answered smoothly.

She looked at him up and down, obviously appraising him. She clicked her tongue. "Not a waste if nothing's there." She returned to her book.

He let out a low chuckle. "And it's good to see you too."

"I'm sure," she muttered darkly. "I can only imagine many useful things a man with your worldly talents could be doing at a bar in the middle of the day," she rolled her eyes.

"Gotta make a living," he smirked as he sat down on the chair in front of her. Oh good. This should take a while. He stretched his hands behind his head and flexed back.

She looked back down at her book, attempted to read as he lounged back.

"Quaint place. Come often?" he looked around.

"Not anymore," she muttered.

A silent moment passed.

"What you got there?" he motioned to her book.

"A book."

He leaned over and grabbed her book from her hand. He flipped through it, letting loose a low whistle. "And a romance no less," he muttered. "Need a little romance in your life,_ chérie_?"

She snorted. "Hardly. What I need is some time _alone_." She reached over and snatched her book back.

He cocked an eyebrow. "What you need is some time _away._"

She gave him an incredulous stare. "If you're tryin' the 'askin' nicely' tactic to get me to get you outta whatever you did down there, it ain't gonna work."

He held his hands up in defense. "Just an observation. No hidden agenda behind it this time." He held up his hand, two fingers bare. "You check if you don't trust me."

She could slap him. Barehanded almost. But he wasn't worth the resulting sleepless nights anymore.

"Wouldn't touch you even if I did," she retorted.

He shrugged. "Suit yourself."

She opened her book back up and flipped through to find the last page she was on. She had hoped he would magically realize she wasn't interested in his smoldering looks and just leave…

But he didn't take a hint.

Instead? He grabbed her cup and took a sip.

And slightly grimaced.

_Nobody_ takes the Rogue's caffeination and _insults_ it too. He was playing with her.

He smiled as her eyes shot up and glared at him. He knew he struck a chord somehow.

"What's your game, Gambit?" She hissed. She was going to finish this now, with or without violence.

He raised his hands up, nonaccusingly.

"No game, thief's honor." Both hands held the Boy Scout's motto.

"Bullshit. Why are you doin' here?"

"Didn't think it was a crime to come back." His cocky demeanor was unshakeable.

"No, but I bet some kind of crime was involved. Either you did something stupid or you're about to do something stupid."

"So suspicious all the time," he tsked. "All that stress ain't good for the heart, y'know."

"That's rich comin' from you," she snorted. "Cut the crap. What are you doin' back?"

He shrugged. "Getting' by," he reminisced with a smile.

She rolled her eyes; she was getting nowhere with this fool, but knew enough that he was up to no good. Whether that "no good" involved the X-Men or not, she was thoroughly done with being annoyed to no end. She'd be on guard regardless of his assurances.

She grabbed her near empty cup and chugged it, throwing it blindly to her left and making it neatly in a trashcan a few feet away. She grabbed her book and shoved it in her book bag.

"Just so you know, Rogue," he drawled suddenly, capturing her attention mid-shoving, "I mean you and your friends no harm. I'm just… passin' through," he fluttered his hand.

"To bigger and greater crimes, no doubt," she muttered, flinging her bag over her shoulder. "Dream big then." He chuckled.

"Need a ride?" he drawled lazily, whipping his bike key around as she turned to leave.

"And give you a chance to kidnap me again? I'm fine with walkin'," she retorted over her shoulder.

And as she walked out of the café door, "See you around, _chérie_."

Well, this was certainly something to reflect about on her walk home.

* * *

He walked back into the bar, straight through its dance floor, passed the pool tables, and into hallways, rapping quickly on the door in front of him. He heard a grunt in reply.

"Excuse me, _mes amis_," he tipped his head towards the head of the table as he sat.

"Gambit," one man recognized coldly.

"You always were distracted by a pretty face. A girl friend, perhaps?" the second one mused.

"Just another _femme_," he shrugged indifferently. "Looked lonely. And Gambit's always one to help those in need." His eyebrows wagged as the first shadow covered man scoffed.

"Yes, yes, Gambit. Your reputation precedes you even in another part of the country. However, we have business to attend to."

"_Mais_, of course. Gentlemen?" He opened his hands in front of him, waiting for them to make the first move. The gentlemen took a long sideways glance at each other. The first man pulled out a laptop, opened it up and started typing furiously. After a moment, he flipped it to face Gambit.

"Everything's has been entered. Now all we need is the chip and we can press enter," the second man eyed Gambit smoothly.

"Ah-ah-ah," Gambit tsked. "Need to make sure the account is correct." He smirked as he leaned in closer, carefully, and rechecked the account number, amount, and processing date.

"_Perfect, mes amis_," he smiled; this transaction was most welcomed to one of his offshore bank account.

"And the chip?" the second man inquired politely.

"_Garcon_, check your pocket," he looked pointedly at the man who hadn't received him politely in the first place.

His face reddened as he pulled out a 16 GB SD card enclosed in a plastic case. "How in the hell..." he stuttered.

"Ah, Gambit, you never fail to entertain," the second man chuckled. He waved pointedly at the laptop. "I hope you wouldn't mind if we checked it?"

"Go right ahead," he leaned back in his seat as they pulled the screen away from his prying eyes.

The first man fumbled with the casing and managed to get it in the SD slot. The laptop hummed slightly, the screen illuminating their happy faces. He quickly typed in the password (that wasn't hard to guess anyways).

"Wonderful," the second hummed.

The lackey closed the program and ejected the disk. He took a subtle look at his boss, he gave a brief nod.

"Care to do the honors, Gambit?" He smiled as his employee flipped the laptop screen towards him.

"My pleasure," he smiled just as well, reaching over and pressing enter on the keyboard. The loading bar flashed and a new page with a confirmation number appeared; the transaction was complete. "All yours."

The lackey began packing up the laptop just as quick, placing the SD card in a pouch inside the laptop bag.

"Will you be in the area long, Gambit?" the boss inquired speculatively.

He kept his face smiling, neutral, no lies, just half truths. "Not sure. Could be here tonight, in _Paris_ tomorrow." He waved his hand flippantly, winking. "I go where the money takes me."

The boss nodded primly. "And if we were to have another… business offer in the future?"

"You know how to reach me," Gambit answered smoothly.

"Indeed." The lackey was just not charming, at all.

"Well, Gambit," the head honcho stood up, extending his hand. "Pleasure doing business with you."

"_Et toi, aussi_," Gambit purred, meeting the handshake strongly. He quickly retracted, stepping away with a bow, and saluted as he closed the door.

He exited the bar through the back exit, letting the door shut silently. He perused the alley, making sure nobody was present, before Mario-jumping onto a fire escape and climbing up onto the roof. He sat on a vent and pulled out a cigarette from god knows where off his body.

He lit it with his fingertips, taking a deep drag, and sighing on the exhale. He pulled out the second SD card, the replica of what he had just given the two criminals not 5 minutes earlier.

While it was common practice to not delve deeper into the personal aspects of a job, this one took a personal jab at his moral side. This one had to do with mutants: registration, capturing, sentinels, _cures_. From the brief skim he took while downloading from the main pc, this was enough to make his blood charge in anger.

He knew the men he just met weren't the ones in charge of this acquisition. They were just the middlemen to the more dangerous being who needed this information about mutants. He also knew the person he skimmed this information from was also just a middleman.

His thief instincts told him he should not have copied the information twice. This was leading to a paper trail already- and there was no paper to begin with. He was getting emotionally involved with this heist- and this couldn't lead to anything good. This information was itchy in his hands- morally itchy, in any case.

And with a pinch of his fingers, he could get rid of the evidence, and forget about this whole thing…

He gripped the card harder…

And put it back into his many coat pockets.

He grinned. You never know when it could be useful…

* * *

Hello all. Another timely update! I'll have you know I was fighting to _not_ write during this whole week, and I know I'll have to again for the next week. Hell week is upon me and finals start on Saturday for me. I'm exhausted and hallucinogenic and am eating emergency stores of holiday tamales. It's been a trial, this week has.

Anywho, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. They finally met up! I'm really trying to limit the amount of overly angsty parts, but some is necessary for Rogue's development. Also, I'm going to use some accentuations for their accent, generally to portray emotion, etc. I'm not going to go all super hardcore, because Word will just go crazy red. However, I have a question for you all. It's been a good 4 years since I took French, and thus my understanding of it has declined. When Remy calls Rogue darling/dear, is it more appropriate to use _chérie, chére…?_ I've forgotten and am getting myself confused with online dictionaries and Google translate…

Anyways, please review. Any feedback is welcome. It will make the next few days of wishing for a fast-forward button more bearable and it'll give me a chance to exercise my smiling muscles.

Also, quick send out for those affected by the horrific Japan earthquake/tsunami. I'm watching the news and I know I can only barely fathom how helpless everyone is feeling there. My thoughts go out to you.


	4. One of Those Long, Painful Days

**Title: **The Wreckage

**Disclaimer: **I don't even own the rights to my soon to be college degrees and will not for many, many, many years… It's called a starving student, and by the state of my fridge, I'm living the dream.

**Pairing:** Rogue and Remy

**Rating: **Teen/Mature

**Warnings:** Contains dark and adult themes

**Summary: **It's what happens when two sides collide. The explosion between what you want and what you need, what's right and what's wrong. It's the wreckage. And it could be so easy. ROMY.

* * *

**The Wreckage**

**Chapter Four**

**It's Going to Be One of Those Long, Painful Days, Isn't It?**

* * *

Her eyes fluttered open, expecting to see mounds upon mounds of dead bodies suffocating her. The blood of thousands of people dripping all over, washing her with their sorrow… washing her with the hatred for the killers taunting her with a free pass towards the final stage…the smell of decay consuming her nostrils… the sounds of hopeless, merciless, thousands of gunshots… the moans of pitiful pain in their dying dance… everything she could feel, even through the thin veil that kept her from tumbling headfirst into this wretched nightmare.

Everything was still present: the scents, sounds, and contact on her scantily clad body. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness of her room, she could feel herself being forced back into the horrid memory unwillingly.

/… a line of other scantily clad sticks next to her, across from her a line of well dressed men, pistols in their pockets, hearts ground into the dirt…the sky beckoned a red day of smoke and fog, of malicious racism and death…the people, one by one, fell back as soon as they heard the gunshot…not falling back, but screaming in agony as the gun was aimed to their head, their chest, their limbs, being propelled by the force rammed into their undernourished corpses…one by one each body fell, accompanied by a scream and a laugh… the line was getting shorter… each scream was getting louder, closer to her ear…/

Rogue moaned. The images flashed quickly in front of her eyes, yet she still knew it by heart. Magneto's memory was on her apparent favorite playlist of memories to relive. She willed her body to wake up, to not get to the regular gruesome part… the most nauseating part.

/ …each gunshot got longer, each scream got closer. The angle of the gun was getting closer and closer to a right angle to her… she could see everything. Her knees were weak…but she could see her vision get stronger, her will to live with it. The gun itself faced its barrel at her… She narrowed her eyes in defiance as she loathed her killer… her heart filled with overwhelming hatred and anger… she felt herself give a mental shove to her killer, a last fleeting thought before she made a date with death. As an answer to the question, the gun backfired, and her "killer" was pushed the opposite way. As if on cue, another killer in the exact same uniform grabbed the exact same gun and sniped. She could almost see clearly as the bullet aimed at her heart sloppily grasped her shoulder and sent her flying back…/

Rogue gasped in pain. Pain blew up in her body, especially in her shoulder region. She could feel every sense as her body flew into shock, but could feel her head spinning and her stomach begin to rebel. Rogue stumbled quickly out her bed, swaying and groping for air, stumbled into the nearest bathroom and unceremoniously threw herself by the toilet. She retched into the immaculately white toilet, ridding herself of the nausea.

/…it felt wrong to have a bullet lodged in her skin. It was misplaced, and a thought in her head told her it had to get out, at all costs. She willed with morsel of life left to send it out, away, and a few seconds later, the bulge was relived and she could feel a normal smoothness over her skin, despite the blood pouring out. Hands were clawing at her pulling her down with the reeking decay of human skin. She could feel the dirty hands pull her down, in attempt for others to get out of the cesspool of death and be considered one of the living, to be considered useful to the death guards in return for their life./

Her chest heaved, sucked in and out. The veins near her ears pounded and throbbed with each push of her intestines. Tears, whether be from crying, or merely eyes watering, gathered in the corners of her eyes and fell silently down her cheek, down her chin, down the toilet.

"God, no, please stop," she whispered.

/A body rolled on top of her… squeezing the insufficient air out of her sunken in lungs… the blood rolled over her body, on her face, in her mouth, choking her and causing her to cough up blood. She attempted to scream for help, her tongue bewitched into a foreign tongue…someone was lying full length on top of her, covering her face. She was unable to breathe, through her mouth or through her nose. Sweat beaded on her brow, ran down her face. This was the end, she thought, the end of the road. A silent death, suffocation…/

And another heave and another desperate release of stomach acid and the remnants of her dinner eaten hours before.

'Don't think about it, just don't, just don't,' she chanted in her head. 'Toilet, white, porcelain, safe, don't think about it…' She didn't dare lift her head as she fumbled around for the toilet lever. She focused on the white, bright bowl through slit, crying eyes; she focused on _Rogue_. She repeated to herself her miserable life story, not bothering to get up; it would be a while before she would feel okay.

And sometime later, she heard noises and muttering and running and more muted running.

And soon after that, she heard someone sit down next to her, wiping her forehead with a Kleenex, someone else pulling back her hair.

She lifted her face drowsily.

"Hey, you, like, okay?" Kitty asked softly.

"Yeah," she mumbled, blinking at the bright light. "Thought I was going to be sick," she lied.

Kitty had a Kleenex in her hand.

"You…kind of looked like you were sleeping," a voice came hesitantly from behind her. Jean must have pulled her hair back with her powers.

"Musta fallen asleep," she mumbled, trying to catch her bearings. "What time izzit?"

"It's almost 6," Kitty frowned. Damn. Danger room at 6.

"Sorry for hogging, I'll get out," she mumbled drowsily and lifted herself up shakily.

"We can tell Mr. Logan you're not feeling well," Jean offered quickly.

Rogue shook her head. "M okay, thanks. 'sides, he doesn't like excuses."

She didn't need to look at them to hear the look they were exchanging.

"Thanks for waking me up," she muttered quietly as she shuffled out of the bathroom, through the open doors of girls looking for the latest Rogue gossip, and into her dark, lonely room.

She gave a pitiful sound as she remembered again, trying not to sink on the floor. She was on a mission: find her uniform, brush her teeth, and make it through the session.

It's going to be one of those long, painful days, isn't it?

* * *

And as Rogue walked out of the Danger Room, she couldn't meet Logan's eyes for a number of reasons.

Primarily, after all of the work he had put into her, she had been the epitome of pure suck-age today. She felt like a screw-up and a liability the entire session. Granted, offensive drills weren't her friend to begin with, but with all the work she had put into her defense, this should have been a piece of chocolate cake.

But it wasn't. And even though she had a team of capable mutants to work with and back her up, she couldn't fight back. Her aim was sloppy, and her strength was poor; she was taken out rather quickly for her standards.

The second reason she didn't linger for the debriefing (as she hoped her friends would pass on the "oh, she's still sick from earlier, y'know?" excuse to anybody that asked) was one she hoped nobody had noticed- no, she _prayed_ nobody had been keeping an eye on her. She _begged_ some god that at that moment, when she flung back that piece of metal shrapnel that had flown from a nearby explosion, Logan had been focused on Jean or Kurt or Iceman or_ anybody_ but her. She pleaded with Lady Luck and pleaded that Logan hadn't felt the wave of magnetism slightly shudder the entire goddamned place.

Lastly, the smell of sweat and smoke (brimstone, courtesy of Kurt) was going to make her vomit again if she didn't get some fresh air and focus on something _not_ moving- like the tile flooring.

So she flew out of the conference room, not waiting for anyone, and ran to her room. She opened her balcony doors to breathe in the frigid, fresh air.

And then heaved over the side.

She fell to her knees miserably on the concrete. She had no energy; hell, she didn't even have anything in her stomach. Not that she wanted anything except an aspirin, but that would tear up her stomach more, she was sure.

She heard Kitty's knocking and then her subsequent phasing. Rogue tried to make herself look as least pathetic as possible, changing into a more "relaxed, but still on the ground" look.

"Are you sure you should go to school today? Stomach bugs aren't anything to suffer through while you're suffering through high school, you know," Kitty advised.

Rogue gave a half smile. "Yeah, but suffering in school isn't any better than suffering in the Med Bay."

Kitty made a face as half her body went back into the door. "Well, we're leaving in thirty minutes, so decide which one is the lesser of two evils soon, mkay?"

Rogue nodded, not that Kitty saw.

And she popped her head back in. "Don't forget the BRATs diet!" She sang with a smile.

She lay back down pathetically on the cold concrete. There was no way she could get out of school without having to go see Hank and possibly stay in the Med Bay. There was no way she could just stick it out in her room- _everyone_ and their moms would check on her.

And then there was that nightmare aspect and the possibility of Logan calling her out on the session.

She sighed, rubbing her head to the already pounding migraine.

School it was.

* * *

As she sat in detention, she pondered the error of her ways. She hadn't _meant_ to get in that fight with those morons. In fact, she hadn't meant to even sit with the group at lunch. She really intended to nurse her migraine and babysit the voices under her tree.

But no.

Kitty had made sure Rogue had followed up with the BRATs diet as well as she could (without being surprise impaled by the same banana she was trying to shove down Rogue's throat). She even had threatened to phase Rogue's shoe into the ground (again) to prevent her from leaving. So really, this was Kitty's fault, even if she didn't own up to it. (And if she _really_ wanted to find the source of her issues, she'd go back to Mystique and company, and her birth with an uncontrollable power that gave her headaches and memories, etc…).

Maybe the fight wouldn't have been aggravated if they hadn't taken to sitting with the Brotherhood boys now. Sure, it was all fun and games now since they had to stick together to fight the general anti-mutant sentiment as well as no longer having opposing leaders. It was comfortable even; Rogue missed the rough, almost merciless attitude of the boys (since all she seemed to be stuck with was good-natured people who couldn't take a slightly-ill-spirited joke or sarcasm well).

That being said, she could fall back onto her old routine of dry witted, dark humor and sarcasm around these guys- which probably didn't help the situation at hand at all.

She rolled her eyes at the sneers and jeers of the jocks. These idiots knew what was coming for them when they antagonized the Brotherhood boys. There didn't need to be powers for an all-out verbal throw down or a fist fight.

Add in a rogue with Southern flavored jabs at intelligence and things were going to get ugly fast.

"Oh, what are you going to do, mutie? Use your powers, go ahead," some jock had jeered.

"I don't need powers to beat your ass to the ground," she smiled sweetly, head torn with adrenaline and a psyche battle fighting for good, righteous, turn-the-other-cheek attitude. The adrenaline was winning.

And of _course_ it wasn't a threat, she had saccharinely assured the principal when he came running out. It was a promise. A fact, even.

At some point, she had to attribute her willingness to fight to the influence of some psyche. Two minutes before the incident, all she was doing was glaring at the table top, head resting on her arms, trying to sleep and ignore Kitty's attempts to force feed her.

Did she regret this incident? Well, it wasn't her proudest moment. She felt bad about getting Kitty and Kurt involved. Luckily for them, they hadn't had to serve detention like her and the boys. Not that she minded anyways- they generally always kept her entertained and she appreciated the change from her usual X-Men routine.

What she did mind was the call they sent to the Mansion right after the incident. The principal yelled, the professor reasoned, and Logan no doubt was right there rolling his eyes at the stupidity of anti-mutant sentiment. He wouldn't give her grief (hopefully), and hey, he may be even a little proud she so calmly promised to kill a human in not-so-exact words.

Her mouth quirked at the though. He was training an animal, he was.

She sat in the back of the class, and just stared at the clock. She had lost count of how many flies Todd had attempted to catch as well as how many non-fly things he had caught. She was bored watching Freddy attempt to make some sort of paper-folding thing. She and Lance were now catching each other's glances, stifling snorts while watching Pietro positively spazz out. He kept switching positions, trying to be comfortable for more than 5 seconds, while drumming his fingers at a rate of a hummingbird's wing. The teacher would look up to see what the noise was, but Pietro's fingers were well hidden by the backs of chairs. The teacher seemed miffed yet grossly enthralled in the "classic pieces of literature you hooligans would be honored to know."

Sometime after watching Pietro bang his head repeatedly and rapidly against the desk, they began playing football with a little paper triangle Freddy had spent a good proportion of time making. Tactically speaking, the little triangle was kept in motion for a while. They passed it around the room furtively (because heaven forbid the muties sit next to each other or even serve detention in the same room as humans), counting the last seconds…

With seconds left on the clock, she could almost hear the beginning buzz of the final detention bell. The football was passed to her. She placed it strategically on the desk, squinted her eyes, and aligned it with the door entrance. If she put enough force into it and timed the flick according to the approaching footsteps…

The bell rang and she flicked the little triangle paper-ball. It sailed, hard and fast, flying its way out of door…

Just in time for it to hit the principal right on the forehead.

"Goal!" They all jumped up and threw their hands in the air, effectively scaring their detention teacher out of his literary stupor.

And with 5 mutants glaring and smirking their way past him, Rogue was certain he would rethink that useless "instilling fear into the menaces of society" speech he had thought up seconds before he left his office.

"You just turn into a better shot each time you're in there, Roguey," Lance complimented as they left the building, nudging her with his elbow.

"That last one was my best yet. In fact, I'd say it was good enough to get me a ride home," she crooned, smirking.

"Like you wouldn't have made me give you one anyways," he rolled his eyes.

"Pretty much, especially since this whole thing was ya'lls fault."

"What! You were the one who mouthed off to Kelly!" Pietro exclaimed.

"And I wouldn't have done if it wasn't for your _horrible_ _influence_," she feigned innocence, playing the Southern belle and bringing her hand to her forehead pathetically. "I just don't know what came over me!"

She slipped off a glove as they approached the car, anticipating a battle just as Todd bound past.

"Shotgun," she called out sweetly, halting his approach to front seat.

"Aw man! Everytime, yo!" He retreated, especially defeated at the sight of her wiggling ungloved hand. Her mutation had its (few) advantages.

She heard Pietro grumble, being forced to sit in the back too. "Oh hush up. You can run faster there and you know it."

Lance started the jeep and swerved off towards the mansion. She couldn't help but remember the adrenaline of joyriding with the boys late some night. She missed being stupid and reckless, and hell, she enjoyed it much better than "like, oh my god, Friday night movie time!"

They flipped into Mansions' main gate, Lance artfully swinging the car a perfect 180 to let Rogue out next to the gate. "Thanks for the entertainment, boys," she called out as she hoped out of the window (the jeep passenger door still having been jammed shut by some unfortunate event involving Pietro, a pizza, and a very, very hungry Blob).

"Later, Roguey!" They yelled, honking obnoxiously loud as they swerved away. She gave them the finger. This was their usual parting prank.

'And once again, I was hoping to enter discreetly,' she grimaced, walking up the entrance. She opened the door, already having piqued the interest of the kids in the Rec Room. She rolled her eyes. Kitty had obviously said something. Seconds later, Logan walked out with a mug of questionable liquid in his hands. Maybe the boys announced her arrival just for the purpose of instigating the Wolverine's attitude indirectly with her as the sacrifice.

"Stripes," he acknowledged, about to say more.

"Yeah, yeah," she waved her hand fleetingly. "He wants to see me." After the stunts that she tended to pull, she knew it was just better to see the Professor right as she got home. She shuffled off, not sure how she was going to seem sorry, considering she wasn't sorry whatsoever. Maybe she could just pretend to be pitiful enough to have him reconsider just letting her get her GED and foregoing the whole "high school experience" nonsense…

She hesitated knocking at the door, testing him. Right as she was about to raise her hand she heard his welcome. She slightly smiled: worked every time.

She walked in and dropped her backpack by the seat, not even waiting for the standard, "Ah, Rogue. Please, sit." and associated hand gesture.

She sat and gave him her best poker face. She hoped he didn't get any whiff of really anything that had happened lately. _'Don't think of it then, moron!' _she berated herself. She stared at him for a second before speaking.

"It wasn't that bad. He completely overreacted. Again." she deadpanned, resisting the urge to roll her eyes at the mental replay.

His steepled his fingers. "I figured as much. Kitty's versions tend to overemphasize the excitement rather than facts. How exactly did this situation arise?"

"Some jerk jock tryin' to goad the boys into a fight." She couldn't resist rolling her eyes now.

"And yourself as well?"

"Not really," she shrugged. "But I might have not-so-quietly suggested he was below the average intelligence cutoff."

"And what was his reaction to that?" She heard the tinges of his internal psychologist.

"He tried to get me use my powers," she shrugged; same story, different day. "I may have told him I don't need my powers to fight him… and then I may or may not have told Kelly it wasn't a threat, just a promise…" her hand fluttered. Same story, different day.

His mouth quirked up slightly. She was slightly relieved- he couldn't blame her, could he? He _had_ to understand the utter stupidity she was dealing with day in and day out.

"How was detention?" he inquired.

"Worth it," she mumbled, slightly smirking as she reminisced on her perfect aim.

He couldn't hide the small smile now. She knew her dry wit was catchy, but she also knew the verbal reprimanding was to follow. She sighed.

"I know you told us to just smile and take it, but since I'm not one for smiling…" She shrugged. She wasn't asking for forgiveness or giving any inclination she was sorry. She was just telling it like it is. "Guess I shouldn't bless everythin' with my commentary, should I?"

He gave her a wry smile. "I'm afraid not everyone can appreciate your humor. Perhaps next time, you should wait until the instigator is well out of earshot?"

"I'll try and work on that next time." Trying isn't promising, she told herself. She grabbed her bag by the shoulder and began her shuffle to the door. She paused just as she was about to grab the doorknob.

"Y'know, just in case next time doesn't go as planned… any chance you'll reconsider the GED idea?" she threw a fake, pleading smile over her shoulder at him.

"I'm afraid not. High school is only a once in a lifetime opportunity I would rather you not miss out on."

She sighed. "Bah, worth a shot," she mumbled, exiting quickly before he could inquire about anything else. Namely, her powers and her meditation and how it just wasn't helping.

She shuffled out down the hallway, bag dragging on the floor behind her. Passing the kitchen on her way to the grand staircase, Logan walked out again, mug in hand. He grunted to catch her attention.

She waved her hand at him as she passed, not even bothering to look up. "Yeah, yeah, I'll see you in an hour," she mumbled, not needing to be reminded what the punishment was for being stupid during school hours.

"Easy solution to this problem," he grumbled.

She turned around and shot him a quick, sarcastic smile. "But then I wouldn't be the Rogue you know, would I?"

She heard a faint snort as she trudged up the stairs. There was no meaning behind that snort... right?

* * *

Panting, she looked up at the metallic ceiling, sprawled out on the Danger Room floor. A shadow fell over her view followed by Logan's cross arms and unimpressed face.

"Stop faking."

She groaned and covered her face.

"There was no need for that," she protested.

She could hear him rolling his eyes.

"Stop whining and get up."

"But it _hurts_."

"That's the point."

"You _know_ I've never been able to do that sim," she moaned.

"You got farther."

"By. Ten. Seconds," she hissed through gritted teeth.

"Still progress."

"Still ridiculous."

"Then stop mouthing off."

"Then stop making me go to high school."

"Will do- after you graduate."

She groaned into the crook of her arm.

"Ya defeated Apocalypse. I'm sure ya can survive your last year of high school."

She snorted. Fast death versus a slow death. She preferred instant elimination.

"Having some normalcy isn't bad."

Her arm flung off and her eyes shot open, glaring harder than she'd ever had to lately. Did he seriously just stay that to her? She was a real life _Sybil_, granted more volatile and dangerous. Normalcy was sucked into the black hole that was her existence.

"Yeah, well, normalcy can't exist with me," she sneered lowly, quivering with anger as she stood and exited the Danger Room. She resisted smashing a fist into the hall on the way to the elevator.

However, she couldn't resist kicking the closed elevator doors on her way up to the main floor.

'What a goddamned _hypocrite_,' she internally screamed. To nearly kill her in this sim (to which she only got out of it because the resulting explosion threw her 10 feet, subsequently knocking her flat on her ass) and then to tell her to stop being herself and surround herself with "normal teenage shit" and try to be _normal_? What the fuck was that about. Out of everyone, she'd expect _Logan_ to understand where she was at right now.

She strode swiftly out of the elevator, scowling. She ignored the pain in her back and still-bruised ribs and avoided the eyes of students as she marched up the grand staircase to her room.

The door slammed a bit harder than she intended, but for how pissed she was, she hid it well. A foot away from jumping on her bed and screaming bloody murder into her pillow, she stopped to access her "ick-factor". Level: too much. She growled and grabbed her bath things, slamming the door harder than before.

She tried to calm her anger as she went through her shower routine and replayed the conversation with Logan. She didn't want to go down this road again. She was going to ignore the psychoanalytical babble she had ridiculed herself with for the last god-knows-how-long about the prospects of being normal. She was going to ignore his comment- it was just another person who couldn't understand.

And anyways, she could be overreacting, right? Overreacting because today was an overall shitty day: with the morning sickness, and the detention, and the danger room session. Logan just ridiculing was the cherry on top.

'This day is over,' she soothed herself, letting the water spray over her face. 'Don't gotta do anything else but eat and curl up in bed with a book.'

The thought was appealing and calming. And hey, maybe she could just _show_ Kitty that she was eating something so she could have the rest of night to herself. Yeah, perfect plan. She'd go in to the kitchen, make herself a sandwich or whatever, and casually go to the Rec Room, where Kitty and co. were _bound_ to be in. When asked to join their "Friday movie night of fun!" she could just use her DR session as an excuse to go lay down. Perfect. Just perfect. She got the shivers just thinking about her potentially awesome night.

She finished the rest of her shower and got dressed leisurely. She smiled at the thought of her hidden mint chocolate chip ice cream still in the industrial sized freezer. Maybe she'd bring that up with her as well.

Rogue trod downstairs, only slightly noticing the quiet mansion. She entered the kitchen, already cleaned from the catastrophe known as dinner with teenage mutants. Opening the fridge, she grabbed a Tupperware of who knows what and stuck it in the microwave.

The door swung open. "Rogue?"

Rogue turned. "Why are you not out with the others?"

She gave Ororo a puzzled look. "Just got out of Logan's death run. Where did everyone go?"

"Most of the kids went out to that movie Kitty was talking about earlier. Did you not hear about it?"

She shrugged. "Probably happened while I was in detention."

Ororo smiled a bit. "Ah yes, that's right. Kitty gave quite the narrative."

"Whatever she said, dull it down by a thousand. It wasn't anything really," she dully sighed. That girl…

"In any case, would you like to go catch up with them? I'm sure the movie isn't due to start for a few more minutes."

She pointed back at the microwave. Ororo wasn't Kitty, but a witness to Rogue's eating was a witness nonetheless. "Nah, I'm alright. Was just going to eat some dinner and probably read a book or something. I'm just feeling a quiet night, you know?"

Ororo smiled sympathetically. "I'll leave you to that then. Enjoy your night, Rogue," she called as she went back out the swinging door.

Rogue permitted herself a small smile. This had to have been some luck, right? A quiet night indeed.

She grabbed the Tupperware full of spaghetti and walked out and halted.

It had just occurred to her that _nobody_ was home. The rarely dark Rec Room called to her. Oh, oh yes. Boob tube? Without having to fight for the remote? And being able to _hear_ what was actually on? 'Don't mind if I do.'

She entered the dark room, not bothering to turn on the light as she made her way to the remote and couch. She flicked on the remote and as the blue light filled the room, she shrieked.

"Oh, shi-" came Scott's voice as Rogue cried "What the fuck!"

Scott jumped off of Jean and Jean sat up quickly, reassembling and readjusting their hair and clothes. But the damage was done.

She closed her eyes, trying to rid herself of the image of Scott and Jean heavily making out and groping and petting and _oh god why!_ Boob tube wasn't meant to be taken so literally!

"Oh god, I'm so, so, so sorry, Rogue," Jean started, slightly panicked.

"The Rec Room, really?" she near shrieked.

"We didn't think anyone would be around," Scott began explaining.

"It's a Mansion full of teenagers, for cryin' out loud! Of course someone's going to be around!" she spat through gritted teeth.

"Oh god, Rogue, we really didn't mean for anyone to see that, honest, we're so sorry," Jean gushed, a heavy blush spreading on her cheeks.

There were a lot of things ready to pop out of her mouth. She couldn't begrudge them doing that kind of thing (hell, she'd probably do the same thing, given the opportunity). But jeez, the telepath really couldn't sense someone coming in?

Rogue took a loud deep breath through her nose and closed her eyes tighter before letting out a deep throated, internal scream.

"Next time, just use your powers, Grey. It wouldn't be a bad thing for anyone."

She turned and marched her way to the grand staircase. She was not expecting that when she walked in and it wasn't a welcome image, either. And of _course_ she'd be the one to walk in on them. The Scott-thing was way over in her book, but it was still annoying to see such a perfect couple like that, on the _Rec Room couch_, where she liked to enjoy the occasional social interaction. Oh, _totally icksome._

And she had to remind herself that she was well beyond the "lamenting over never having a relationship" phase. And that her only problem now was fixing the abyss that was her mind. And that all this other social shit was just that- unnecessary and irrelevant to her life. She heaved another sigh as she reached the top of the staircase.

When she was about to turn into the girls wing, she noticed something quite strange. Her dinner was flying out of her hand and across the hall. And then she registered the plow that caused her dinner to gain magical powers. And then she realized she was falling to her side.

The sharp pangs around her bruised ribs thrummed as she leaned up, slightly disoriented. She rubbed her ribs tenderly as her gaze locked onto the little boy (boys) that collided into her. Well, he wasn't going to make it to puberty, that was for goddamned sure.

But he didn't acknowledge her. He looked at his multiples and grinned, even slapping a high five to the one on left. "Alright! Only 3 this time! I'm totally winning at this control thing."

Her eye twitched.

And her heart stuttered as she saw what was near one multiples hand.

Her ice cream. Her mint chocolate chip ice cream. Her mint chocolate chip ice cream that had "ROGUE" written in caps and a skull next to it.

And it was all on the floor.

All she could do was glare at him. And he noticed. His grin faltered and she could see fear slowly drain all color in his face.

"Oh, uh, h-hey Rogue," one of them said.

"S-s-sorry about that," another suttered.

They were near as pale as she was. She stood up, towering over him.

"Please don't kill me," the real Jaime squeaked.

She grabbed him by the collar and hoisted him up, bringing him dangerously close to her face.

"The next time you run into me, I will make sure you never run again."

He nodded hesitantly.

"And the next time you eat _my_ ice cream, I will make sure _it's_ _the last thing you ever do_."

She felt him shake slightly. She let go of his collar and he collapsed. She glared at him. "Clean all of this up," was her parting hiss as she stormed off to her room.

She slammed the door, flinging herself on the bed and screaming very loudly into her pillow. She needed to get _out_.

* * *

Hello, hello! It's the weekly update time. Sorry I haven't been able to individually respond. I'm not good with keeping up with correspondence and this week pretty much kicked my ass final/paper wise. I'm still recovering. The next update may be a bit late. I'll be on break and gallivanting around Arizona, Nevada, and California and sleeping and partying (Vegas 2011 baby!).

I hope you enjoyed this latest installment. It takes the "bad idea" theme of TS and just redoes it to better flow. I honestly don't know what I was thinking when I was writing TS. This is clichéd too, but I think it's a better flowing cliché. Any thoughts, suggestions, flames, comments of lurb will be greatly appreciated. It'll make the end of my quarter too, since I still have a final tomorrow. Love and banana bread with chocolate chips to all!


	5. Who Do You Think I Lived With Before?

**Title: **The Wreckage

**Disclaimer: **I don't even own the rights to my soon to be college degrees and will not for many, many, many years… It's called a starving student, and by the state of my fridge, I'm living the dream.

**Pairing:** Rogue and Remy

**Rating: **Teen/Mature

**Warnings:** Contains dark and adult themes

**Summary: **It's what happens when two sides collide. The explosion between what you want and what you need, what's right and what's wrong. It's the wreckage. And it could be so easy. ROMY.

**The Wreckage**

**Chapter 5**

**Who Do You Think I Lived With Before the X-Men? Nuns?**

In all honesty, the whole "jumping off her balcony and just _walking_ to somewhere that wasn't the Institute" seemed like a lot better plan while she was in her room instead of when she was actually wandering around Bayville. And based on the dead silence of the outskirts of town, it was probably a stupid idea to be out alone without telling anyone she was out. A little voice at the back of her mind taunted her, making a small part of her realize that when she got back to the Institute, she'd probably realize this was a stupid plan.

But, she did what she did and probably for a great cause not revealed yet. Maybe this "gotta get out" feeling was her unconscious way of keeping herself from committing homicide. Logan did it all the time. Maybe this was his psyche acting out.

(And maybe she could remember to bring this back around to him when he tried to punish her later.)

She shoved her hands in her slim jacket's pockets as she meandered to the center of Bayville. The flaw in her plan was that she had nothing to do once she got here. She didn't have regular haunts besides her room and the Institute's library. Her purse was nothing of entertainment; in fact, she was lucky she even had the foresight to grab a flimsy jacket, her purse, and phone.

(However, she mused that if she was to really do this in Logan-eque fashion, she wouldn't have taken anything that would lend itself to be tracked, like the X-Com buried under crap in her purse).

She slowed her gait as she made it into town. The streets and sidewalks were fairly crowded for a Friday night. And if she had her hood up, she could blend in quite easily…

A small, melancholic smile graced her features as she slid in and out of the increasing crowds of Downtown Bayville. Hide the stripes and she was just like every other ambiguously figured blob of clothing; it was nice, just blending in and observing and not being forced to be a part of them.

And as her homicidal cravings ebbed with her peaceful isolation, she heard the squeal that almost took it all away. A quick furtive look across the street forced her to pull down her hood more. It seems the movie had ended and Kitty was (again) singing praises.

'Don't see me, don't see me, don't see me,' she chanted over and over in her mind, slinking into an alley. Sure, that wasn't the smartest thing to do, and hell, it probably even brought attention to herself, but she _really_ didn't want to be found at the moment.

But _shit_, what to do, what to do. She figured they wouldn't linger and were actually just waiting for some people to get out of the bathroom. So, wait it out in the alley or just walk swiftly away? She peaked out hesitantly. Yep. Still there.

Tugging on her hood to better cover her stripes, she walked out of the alley composed and calm. She was being ridiculous. Even if they _were_ observant and noticed her, the most they'd do is ask if she'd want a ride, to which she'd decline. And then they'd go back and eventually Logan would find out and hunt her down. Joy.

Walking as smoothly as she could among the crowd ('Remember your therapy. You're covered. You're _fine_,' she repeated in her head.), she realized she was nearby the coffee shop she told herself she'd ever go to again. Regardless, she sighed, knowing she'd better enjoy her time alone while she could, wherever she could.

With her head down low, she didn't see who she was running into and bumping with her small frame. After a particularly hard bump, she sputtered out an apology before turning into the coffee shop. Keeping her hood up, she ordered a plain coffee as sweetly and non-accented as she could. She tended to get better service this way, she had noticed. She grabbed the coffee and wandered to the lonely back of the shop.

And she sat. She fiddled with her gloves for a bit before taking them off exasperatedly. She was _tired_ of wearing gloves all the time. All she did was ruin them with her picking and needing to do life things with them on. And hey, no one was around, right? She wasn't going to kill them. She needed some _Rogue time_, after all.

Smiling faintly as she preened her nails, she looked out the windows of the café. Her hair was still hidden, so really, she looked like everyone else out there. She pretended that she was just like everyone else for just a moment as she drank her coffee.

She made herself a little life story and life goals. Maybe she could have been graduated by now. After all, she wasn't stupid and the only reason she had been held back that one year was because she had been moving all over the country when she was a kid. She'd be graduated and even attending some kind of college. Maybe something prestigious and social without needing so much book-worming. Her favorite pastime would be hanging with her friends (probably all guys, if she was really honest with herself) and the occasional skanky shopping trip with the girls. She'd go to frat parties and be the belle of the ball so to speak, with a handful of admirers ready to be teased by her.

Maybe she didn't live anywhere near here. Maybe she was still in the south, really playing up the southern belle part. She'd saving up from whatever job she landed and be looking forward to her upcoming New Orleans Mardi Gras trip. Maybe she'd be a waitress at a lazy highway side café or restaurant. Tonight would be one of her few nights off. Hell, on a Friday night her high school sweetheart would have taken her out to a movie and brought her back home at a reasonable hour. And even if he didn't bring her back by curfew, her parents wouldn't mind because they loved her boyfriend and more importantly, they loved her.

She sighed. Pretending was so nice sometimes.

After a while, her attention lingered to the busboy mopping the floor. She fished out her phone. This late already?

"We'll be closing in about 5," the kid called out to her.

Oh crap. What to do now. She finished the rest of her coffee in one fell swoop and threw it in the trashcan. She walked out of the café, tugging on her gloves as she walked out, eyes fixated on the sidewalk.

'These boots were made for walkin', and that's just what they'll do…' she hummed sweetly to herself as she kept on walking to nowhere. The park, maybe, if she turned left here.

And as she walked past the center of downtown Bayville, it got quieter, eerier. It was time to turn the paranoia back on, she reminded herself. And as she got closer to the park, she was glad she did. She was being followed. She snorted in amusement as she discreetly shed her gloves. Instincts told her she should take off her hood for better listening, but she was still in the public eye.

She slipped into another alley, noiselessly maneuvering down it and towards another alley. All that Logan had taught her in the last few months was well worth it; her stalker was lethally silent. She climbed up the wall cracks and hung off a fire escape. She'd be ready for her stalker the minute he turned the corner.

It took a silent minute, but she felt him approach. She grinned. This was the most excitement she had felt in a while.

And he had finally passed the corner, but it was too dark to tell who it was. He passed the fire escape and continued down the alley, lethally silent. She jumped off and landed behind her stalker silently (and proudly-that had taken her a solid _month_ to learn).

She was about to grab his rather tall neck when he flipped around and grabbed her wrist. She didn't hesitate in grabbing his wrist (long sleeve shirt and gloves, damnit), jabbing her finger into the pressure point on his wrist. The minute his grip loosened, her captive wrist grabbed his and forced him towards her, giving him a good knee to the abdomen. She elbowed his back and kicked his ass (literally) as he swung forward into the alley wall. She grabbed his arm as he impacted and twisted it behind his back, forcing it upwards.

"Who the fuck are you and what do you want?" she hissed.

And he laughed loudly, the sound echoing off the alley walls.

"Impressive, _chére, _but I do believe you're a bit paranoid, _hein_?" he crooned as he finished his booming laugh.

She narrowed her eyes. Goddamn it.

"Would you just stop followin' me?"

"Who said I was?"

She pushed him further into the wall and growled.

He sighed dramatically.

"Well, to be fair, you made it easy. And you bumped into me first today. Now could you let go? My arm's gettin' tired."

"Only if you tell me why I shouldn't _drain you the fuck dry_," she muttered darkly into his ear.

"Because if I was goin' to do somethin', I would've done it already. You wouldn't have known what hit you."

The answer was too simple and straightforward. Granted, there was always a small margin of error when it came to predicting anybody's moves, but for the most part, he was fairly consistent with his MO according to his psyche. With a harsh shove against the wall, she let him go and backed away.

His eyes glowed with amusement in the dark alley.

"You are way too tense, _chérie_," he crooned.

"Again, really?" she deadpanned and motioned to the dark alley.

He shrugged casually again, shuffling a deck of cards in his hand as he leaned against a wall. "What can I say? Been seein' a lot of you lately, Rogue. Can't say you sneakin' around downtown didn't peak my curiosity."

"Oh goody, I've managed to catch the Cajun's eye. Now I can die happy."

"Now what's a girl like you doin' alone at this time of night?"

"None of your damn business," she spat.

He chuckled at her comment while still taking a glance in his surrounding alley. He focused on her for a moment, eyes burning bright in the dark. She grew suspicious.

"What's your problem?"

"Forgot how defensive you can be when you're taken by surprise. Let's see if we can't turn that frown upside down tonight, _hein?_" he smirked, pushing up from against the wall and slipping his cards back into some pocket.

"What in tarnation are you talkin' bout?" She was intrigued, much to her dissatisfaction.

He began walking out of the alley, cocking his head for her to follow. "You look like you need something to calm the nerves. Let's go get some drinks."

It would be lying if she said she wasn't slightly floored by his suggestion. A quick mental replay was needed to make sure she was hearing right. Wasn't he just following her? Didn't she just attack him?

"Uh, seriously?" was the only coherent thing she could spit out.

"Why not? Haven't spent time with a familiar face in a while," he shrugged casually. "'Sides, doesn't look like you have much to do, with avoidin' your friends and all."

"Hey! I wasn't _avoidin'_ anyone. It's called havin' some alone time once in a while," she defended herself hotly.

"You ducked into an alley the minute you saw them."

"Jesus Mary and Joseph! Would you stop stalkin' me?" She threw her hands in the air. This was getting ridiculous.

"You bumped into me."

She clenched her fists and her jaw together.

"And for the record, that was a sorry excuse of an apology."

"Says my kidnapper," she sneered.

"You stopped me from apologizin' that night."

Damnit. He was right. "Bull hockey."

His turn to roll his eyes. "As much as I appreciate goin' down memory lane, how 'bout we go somewhere else to reminisce?"

Every voice in her head was screaming against his offer.

"My treat. I owe you at least that much, _hein_?"

Her mouth turned upwards in a half frown. She could get out of this, easy. "I'm not twenty-one."

He shrugged. "Doesn't matter these days."

It was a severely tempting offer. The wondrous drinking possibilities churned in her head as she chewed her lip.

Or she could just ditch him somehow and still go on her park rendezvous alone.

Or she could drink…

Ugh, she was stupid wasn't she? How was she even considering drinking around a guy who was a thief and a kidnapper? She was really just tying herself up and serving herself on a silver platter.

"The offer to look inside my head is still open."

But still… drinking was fun. And she missed drinking around drinkers. And she didn't have to stay very long anyways. In fact, she was really just one button away from letting the entire Institute know where she was. He didn't know that. (But really, if he was so intent on doing something, he wouldn't even give her the opportunity to mess up his plans, would he?).

Maybe she could use this as an opportunity for "information recon."

And a small voice in the back of her head suggested that maybe she could have a good time without all this X-Men politics bull crap.

She sighed. Regardless, she didn't want to go home yet. And she probably also deserved at least one drink before she went home and faced the wrath of god knows what.

"You're gonna have a very expensive apology in store then."

He wore a cheeky smirk. "Wouldn't have it any other way, _chére_."

One last glance at the alley and the outside and she settled on him. "I must be stupid," she muttered to herself, walking out of the alley. But really, her week had progressed to the point in which if she got kidnapped, it would still probably be a better outcome than just staying in the mansion and a little more interesting and worthwhile than if she just read in her room.

Shoving her hands in her pockets, she glanced over her shoulder. The grin on his face was suggestive; she rolled her eyes. "C'mon, Cajun, the drinks aren't gonna buy themselves."

"Knew you'd see it my way." She could hear the grin in his voice as he followed behind her.

"Might as well take advantage of my stalker, considerin' he practically lives at the bar." Yes, that's how she was going to justify her stupid choice.

"Who's the stalker now?"

"Still you. I'm not actively seekin' you out."

He stopped, took a minute to look at her suspiciously and stroked his goatee. "Or are you?"

As she turned back, she gave him a dry look.

"I dunno, _chére_, the fact I always see you around makes me wonder if you aren't tryin' to get my attention."

She snorted. "Of course, because that's how I spend my time- grabbin' the attention of ex-Acolytes. No wonder John and Piotr came to live at the Institute."

It was probably (not) her imagination, but he saddled up closer as they got closer the bar. Her eyes narrowed and looked sideways towards him as he bumped into her for the third time in this little adventure.

And then he reached over and lazily slung his arm over her shoulders.

"What the fuck-"

He squeezed tighter and leaned his face down to hers, motioning to the bouncer.

"You want those drinks or not?"

It was a mix between surprise that he was so close and surprise he had brown eyes now that rendered her speechless. What the hell?

"Thought so. Look like you're enjoyin' it, at least. Makes it believable," he whispered sensually with a smirk as they got closer to the bouncer. One muscle twitched- the one in her clenched fist. Oh yeah, because this was something she could really enjoy.

But the bouncer wasn't impressed. "ID," he pointedly stared at her.

"But we were just in here, _mon ami._" She watched Gambit's eyes brighten and glow behind the brown. One sly look down at his wrist revealed a slim watch- that similar to Kurt's image induce. She slightly scoffed- was the cocky, egotistical Gambit _self conscious?_

"I remember you, but not the girl…" the bouncer squint his eyes.

"Well if you remember me, you _have_ to remember her. She's been with me the whole night. You remember, _homme_," he smiled knowingly at the bouncer.

The bouncer looked at her again, nodding a bit. "Yeah… no yeah, I'd remember a beauty like her anytime," he verify.

"Exactly, _homme_." Gambit clapped the bouncer on the back as he ushered her in. A path in the bar cleared almost instantly. Curiouser and curiouser. He led her to an empty table, a bit away from most of the patrons. She slid as far away from him as she could and watched him motion to the bar maids and patrons. Looks like someone was popular here.

And the minute he turned to signal the bar, a particular buxom blonde sashayed over towards them, her mouth curling up in a sensual smile just for him.

"Look who's back," she purred, leaning over the tall table, assets almost completely displayed.

"What can I say? I've found the service to be _fantastique_ both inside… and outside of the bar," he gave her a deeply sensual looking over.

Rogue wanted to gag as she slapped her head. She wasn't wrong about the popular bit at all, apparently, but did he have to be so corny?

"What can I get you tonight, baby?" she purred. It was almost as if Rogue could see the clothes just _fly_ off of Gambit, the waitress was undressing him with her eyes so hard.

"The usual."

Now the waitress was almost to the point of straddling him.

Rogue cleared her throat.

Gambit didn't even glance at her. "And whatever m' friend wants."

Rogue magically appeared on the blonde's radar as she briefly swept her eyes over to Rogue, and then back to Gambit. Rogue rolled her eyes. "Rum and coke. Extra rum," she sweetly ordered, batting her eyes a little. The blonde minutely nodded.

"Anything else, hot stuff?" One soft caress down his cheek.

"Later," he murmured in her ear. Rogue still caught it. And to think she left Scott and Jean's more innocent make-out session on the couch for this?

'Drinks,' she reminded herself. 'Blame it on the alcohol.'

Perhaps her annoyed glance betrayed her thoughts as the blonde walked away.

One look at her face and he shrugged unapologetically. "She gives good discounts."

"Is that what it's called these days?"

Stupid cocky smile. "Wanna find out?" His fingers wiggled in front of her face.

She couldn't stop her face from grimacing. "Sorry, I don't feel like bein' the first victim of a mental STD."

Leaning back on the chair, he chuckled, giving her yet another smirk. She could feel his thoughts analyze her as his eyes roved her quietly. He looked ridiculously normal. She was just about to tell him that, when she felt her phone's vibration. She groaned as she dug through her bag and prayed it was just Kurt or Kitty.

Flipping it open, she was only slightly relieved. It was just Kitty. 'Hey, where are you?' She grimaced.

Gambit caught her expression. "Aw, don't tell me you have to go home already."

She gave a wry smile. "It looks like my absence's been finally noted."

'Just out and about with the Brotherhood. Why?' she quickly sent back. Time delays in communication were not something X-Men dealt with well nowadays, especially in regards to her. But she couldn't really blame them. She did have a tendency to be abducted by various villains and government agencies.

"Didn't tell anyone you were leavin'?"

"Nope," she popped, and sighed. It was a stupid move on her part and she had a feeling it would be her ultimate downfall tonight.

"Interestin'," he caressed his goatee lightly. She narrowed her eyes.

"Don't you even think about it. Just cuz they don't know where I am _doesn't_ mean I can't let them know faster than you could get that waitress to flash you."

He nodded approvingly. "That sounds like somethin' I'm willing to bet on."

She glared at him. "Spare me." Her phone vibrated again.

'Logan asked. Do you need him to pick you up?'

Oh, well shit. It appeared he was already ready to hunt her down. 'No, it's fine. I'll ask Lance to drop me off later.'

"Any reason why you didn't tell them?"

"People were out, wasn't anyone to tell," she shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. She really didn't want to get into her impromptu departure and its pretenses.

The phone demanded her attention.

'Oh cool, tell everyone I said hey!' said the first message.

'Oh, and Logan wanted to remind your curfew's at 12 today,' reminded the second message. She checked the time. Ideally, she could have one, maybe two drinks, and have to be on her way.

'Mkay, thanks.'

"They lettin' you stay out and play after all?"

She smirked a little.

"I just bought me some time before the hounds sniff me out. Now where's my damn drink? I'm thirsty."

Turning his head, he caught the eye of the waitress. She sashayed over, trying too hard to play the sexy waitress, drinks on the tray. If there was a way to serve drinks with ones boobs, she almost would have mastered it. She set Gambit's drink in front of him, boobs in his face with a slight sultry smile. She set Rogue's drink down, followed by two extra shots of rum. Rogue beheld the sight near gleefully and didn't begrudge the waitress anymore. _This_ is what she needed.

"Anything else I could… _help you with?_" she murmured in his ear, touching and caressing his arms lightly.

"You'll be the first to know, _chére_," he nuzzled into her neck.

She sashayed away (with, what Rogue was sure was a quick slap on the ass), only turning her head once to smile coyly.

And all Rogue did was smile, shaking her head, letting a little scoff pop out as she watched the entire exchange.

"You into that?"

"Naw," she shook her head, slightly amused, slightly saddened. "I'm just imaginin' how none of that would have happened if she knew you were a mutant," she mused, glancing at his image inducer. She watched the smirk change ever so slightly. Always the buzzkill she was, but it was the truth. She sighed, making sure her hood was still covering her stripes.

She picked up a shot and raised it to him. "Cheers to the joys of mutanthood, Gambit," she dryly clinked her shot against his. Shooting it back, she licked her lips and picked up the second shot glass. "And cheers to the resultin' drinking." She hit his glass again before letting it glide down her throat. Licking her lips again, she set the glasses to the side.

Gambit was still sipping his drink, watching her, highly amused, and maybe impressed at her_ not_ grimacing or taking a chaser. Yes, she was a drinking badass.

"Well, _chére,_ I didn't really think X-Men could drink," he observed casually. Any way to change the touchy (ha, pun for herself) subject.

It struck her as an odd categorization. And she realized why. She threw her head back and laughed. "Who do you think I lived with before the X-Men? Nuns?"

He gave her a blank, curious look. Then memories of memorizing her files came to him. "That's right. Rogue, a Brotherhood girl turned X-Men. Well that explains that," he shrugged and nodded to her, raising his glass slightly.

"Speakin' of which," she took a long, long drink of her rum and coke, "if anyone asks, I was with the Brotherhood tonight."

"Were you?"

"Nope," she popped. "But it's a best excuse to be out alone without tellin' anyone."

"Y'know, it almost sounds like you're runnin' away."

She rolled her eyes. "I told you, it's called _alone time_, Gambit," she scoffed.

"Remy," he quipped.

Wait, what? "What?"

"Gambit's my fightin' name. _This_," he motioned to her and her drinks, "is pleasure, so it's Remy."

She cocked her head. "I think I knew that. But ain't that a girl's name?"

"Says the girl whose name means scoundrel."

"Touché, Cajun," she murmured into her empty drink, slurping up the remnants loudly. What? She was _thirsty_.

"Another drink?"

"Wouldn't be here if I didn't," she smiled sweetly, pushing over her glass to meet her shot glasses. He motioned to the waitress with a wink and a smile. The waitress nearly jumped and ran over to him. Rogue rolled her eyes yet again. Pathetic.

"What can I get you, sexy?"

He placed his hand on her very near hips.

"Another bourbon, _s'il vous plait,_" he slightly pulled her in closer. "And whatever my friend wants."

The girl didn't even look Rogue's way.

"Another rum and coke. Extra rum."

"Mmhm," she murmured, still hypnotized by Remy.

"Thanks, _chére,_" he released his hold on her, leaving her to stumble away drunk on his touches.

Then she realized something. She leaned in slightly closer. "So let me get this straight. Not only do you use your empathy to get her to sleep with you, but she doesn't even know your name?"

It was just a split second reaction, but she got him again. The calm, suave demeanor flickered and its place was a flash of taken aback suspicion. It took him a quick second to recompose himself, but it was enough to know she hit a nerve and won the game.

"Now, who told you that?" It was a simple question, but she knew it was loaded dangerously.

"That you're a rapist or a walkin' STD?"

"The empathy." It was an obvious strain for him to continue his nonchalant appearance. His eyes visibly glowed behind the brown image.

Her eyes furrowed. That was right, wasn't it? He was an empath… and she sighed. 'Ah, that's right. People don't like it when you know random things about them because you absorbed them, you soul sucker,' she reminded herself sullenly

"Oh. That." She tapped her head grimly. "Sorry, forgot that wasn't a conversation we had in reality."

She saw the next twenty questions burning on his tongue and in his eyes as the waitress placed their drinks on the table.

"_Merci, chére_," he muttered, ignoring the waitress otherwise. The waitress looked a bit startled and glared at Rogue before turning and leaving.

'Save this! He may end up kidnapping and killing you just for what you may or may not know,' she hissed to herself.

"I don't much 'bout you otherwise," she responded a little too quickly. "You stay pretty quiet for some reason. The only reason I know that was cuz I was on an emotional rollercoaster the last time I absorbed you. It took a while to figure out why…"

"Anybody else know?" His eyes pierced her dangerously.

"The professor, and that's it, I swear." She felt nervous. Well, this was a quick way to turn a pleasant drinking time awkward.

He studied her for a quiet moment, taking a minute to accept her explanation.

"Gotta know who I can still charm and whatnot," was his shrugged, seemingly blasé attempt at being nonchalant. He fiddled with his drink slightly. "It's too bad the secret's out. You would have been fun to charm."

"I'm sure you have better things than to waste your time charmin' me anywho," she muttered into her drink. Better to get it all out into the open now in any case. No need to be lead on by either party. How depressing.

"Alright, _chére,_ enough with this mutant talk. Let's just relax, have a good time, _hein?_ Not everything about life has to do with our powers."

She wanted to correct him, but realized she didn't want to go there. Not in front of people, anyways. Instead, she nodded slowly, turning the shot glass around and around, finally looking up at him with a sad smirk. She had wanted to get out to enjoy herself (alone time, really), but this wasn't so bad. She had drinks and she was out of the Mansion.

He raised his glass to her, inviting her to do the same. She raised both shot glasses to his amusement.

"To havin' a good time," he smirked.

"To havin' a good time," she repeated, smirk and all.

* * *

So… this is a bit late… but I looked at the stuff I had for TS and realized that it was just horrible, so I had to do everything from scratch. I had to cut this chapter in half because it was so long, so I should get the next chapter out within the next day or so (hopefully…). In any case, I hope you enjoy! Please review even if you're mad at me and tell me what I'm doing wrong/right, etc. I'm going through a bit of a quarter-life crisis right now and I could really be cheered up…

Next chapter: Drunken fun and its subsequent consequences.


	6. Cajun, I'm Sure That's Not All You Like

**Title: **The Wreckage

**Disclaimer: **I don't even own the rights to my soon to be college degrees and will not for many, many, many years… It's called a starving student, and by the state of my fridge, I'm living the dream.

**Pairing:** Rogue and Remy

**Rating: **Teen/Mature

**Warnings:** Contains dark and adult themes

**Summary: **It's what happens when two sides collide. The explosion between what you want and what you need, what's right and what's wrong. It's the wreckage. And it could be so easy. ROMY.

**The Wreckage**

**Chapter 6**

**Oh Cajun, I'm Sure That's Not All You Like**

Perhaps it was the second set of double shots that finally yanked her out of her sullen, suspicious stupor. She couldn't really tell, mainly because she was just sitting at the table not doing anything. Looking back, it might have been the third set of double shots that really sent her over. She could definitely feel those, because she was standing with a pool stick in hand and it was getting hard to not run around laughing like an idiot and dancing like a fool.

Also, it was after the third set of shots that she realized she had missed curfew and some of Kitty's frantic texts and she really didn't care.

But she wasn't drunk, she swore to herself. Because _that_ would be irresponsible- going back to the Institute drunk.

'Or, it could be really funny…' She laughed. She was right. It could be really, really funny.

After a while, the bar waitress stopped coming by as often. Rogue really didn't know why. They had only moved from the table to the pool table. However, the last time the waitress came by, Remy had switched seats and was whispering something in Rogue's ear and she was too preoccupied to really remember if the waitress even asked for their order. But she _wanted another drink_.

And she spied one, smack dab at the opposite end of the pool table as she shot a purple striped ball into a side pocket.

Remy whistled low. "Again, not bad, _chére_," he complimented. A small voice in the back of her mind wondered if he was actually complimenting her posture or her actual shot. A larger voice in the back of her mind decided she didn't care. She attempted another shot, but missed. She internally shrugged; she was still ahead.

"Worried, Cajun?" He circled to the opposite side of the table, letting his eyes momentarily to meet hers, and (as planned) abandoned his drink. Mocking his suave movements, her hips swayed towards his drink. As he bent over (and let his muscles flex just a liiiiittle bit, she noticed), she slightly bent over, letting her chest hang over the table just a tad.

"Very," he retorted dryly, his wink and gaze rolling over her body. And as he shot another ball off a side pocket and into the wall, she grabbed the glass and slowly brought it to her slightly smiling lips. A look of realization fell over him.

"What?" She could play innocent real well.

"That was mine, _chére_." He took careful, measured steps towards her.

"Not my fault you left your drink unattended. And besides, sharin' is carin'." Another sip followed by another smug smirk.

Like a beautiful pillar of beautifully tanned muscle, he towered over her as he retracted his glass. "Now who said I cared?" he asked with a smirk and a raised eyebrow, taking a drink.

And she laughed. "Aw, come on. Do you really expect me to believe that?"

"I expect nothin'." Another sip, another smug smirk.

She cocked her head and looked at him thoughtfully.

"I like it," she finally decided, yanking the cue stick out of his hands.

"Like what?"

"That."

"What's that?"

"That philosophy. 'I expect nothin'."

"Oh yeah?"

"Mmhm," she hummed, bending over right next to him, shooting yet another ball in the corner pocket. "I think Imma use it for now on, hope you don't mind," she winked.

"Be my guest, _chére._"

And she grabbed the glass cleanly out of his hand.

"Don't mind if I do," she smirked, taking another gulp. After seeing his face, she put the most sensually innocent look on her face that she could muster. "Oh sorry, I thought you meant the drink." Because in her head, inviting him in such a way wasn't a bad thing, it was just pure fun (and really, Remy couldn't be mad at her sexy, pouty face.)

And when he pushed her against the pool table and snaked his arm around the small of her back, the alarm bells in her head only vaguely rang. Through half lidded eyes, she smirked at him. Again, she could distinctly see the reds of his eyes glowing playfully.

"Drink?" She offered up his glass. He took it and gulped the rest of his bourbon down, not taking his eyes off hers. "Forgiven?" she asked sweetly, sensually.

This grip he had on her back pressed her more into him. And to be honest, could you blame a girl for not resisting? And her heart may or may not have quickened or skipped a beat or whatever, as he leaned into her and whispered in her ear "_Oui_."

She laughed quietly as she reached over and turned off his image inducer. The brown image flickered and disappeared, letting the red of his eyes blaze hotter.

Reaching over with a gloved hand, she lightly trailed his face with the back of her fingers. "Good, cuz I'd hate for you to be mad at me when I leave, 'specially since I'm only one shot away from kickin' your ass again."

She pushed him (lightly, sort of, as much as she could muster in her… inebriated state) off of her and took back the cue stick.

As she walked around the table, letting her hips sway as she eyeballed the cue ball, she realized she felt giddy. She felt fantastic. She felt happy.

This meant she probably shouldn't have had that last drink of Remy's bourbon, a dull, wonderfully muted voice broke through the fog. She agreed. But she didn't regret it as she crouched over the table.

"Eight ball, corner pocket," she purred, shot, and won.

She allowed herself one satisfied grin.

"Well done, _chére,_" he slow clapped.

"Word of advice: stick to cards, Cajun." Hanging up the cue stick, she grabbed her purse and rifled through, making sure everything was there (because you really could trust an 'honorable thief' only so much). One glance at the phone, and she realized just how… not sober she really was. All she could do was laugh.

She had about 10 messages from Kitty and a few missed calls from the Mansion, more than likely from Logan. It was late/early in the morning. She was fucked for sure.

But she was okay with it.

Until she realized Logan wasn't one to _not_ hunt people down.

The image of Logan sniffing through alleys and charging through the bar was funny. She giggled as she swung her bag over her shoulder. "Well Cajun, thanks for the drinks."

"Leavin' already?"

"Yeeeep, I'm almost certain Logan's been around the block lookin' for me."

"He call?"

"Multiple times. There's a good chance I won't be able to leave the Institute for a while after this," she shrugged.

"You don't sound too worried."

"Lifestyle consequence." One flippant flick of the wrist as she shrugged. "I predict not goin' anywhere for a while and a week of Danger Room."

He chuckled. "Do this often?"

"I do a lot of things often," she smiled mysteriously.

And as he shrugged on his coat and left multiple twenties on the counter, his gaze burned over her body and he smirked just as mysteriously. "I like a girl with a bad streak."

She threw her head back and laughed. "Oh Cajun, I'm sure that's not all you like."

He wiggled his fingers in front of her again. "Wanna find out?" And instead of rolling her eyes like she did earlier, she slapped his hand away playfully.

"Maybe some other time, Cajun."

She could feel his gaze burn over her backside as she walked out of the bar. Maybe she put a little more swing in her hips, maybe she didn't. In any case, she turned and gave him his own salute as she walked down the street.

"Later, Cajun," she swayed a bit. Ah, there was that last shot.

As silently as he had crept up, he snuck up next to her and wrapped his arm around her waist, effectively twirling her into him.

"Now, I'm not gonna claim to be a good person, but I was raised a good southern gentleman. You can't honestly believe I wouldn't escort you home, _hein?_"

"I 'spect nothin'," she replied cheekily, quite internally pleased that she remembered. Guiding her by arm slung around her shoulder now, he pulled her the opposite way.

"Ah, _chére_," he just shook his head. "B'sides, chances are you'd find some kind of trouble on your way back and everyone would come after me. Can't give your friends any more ammo against me, _hein?_"

She threw her head back and laughed. It was sad and it was true.

"Yeah, cuz escortin' a drunk me home is gonna win you brownie points f'sure."

"I'll take what I can get," he shrugged. "The X-Men are only too redeemin' for my type."

"That's _your_ own fault, Cajun. You're the one-" and she stopped. And moaned. Loudly. "Can I drive?" she asked, quietly awed at the bike that seemingly magically appeared in front her.

He laughed. "_Non, _you're drunk."

"I'm not! And besides, you had more'n I did!"

"_Non_, I _would have_ had more than you did if you didn't drink all of it."

"Well, someone hadta drink it," she muttered darkly, grabbing the helmet out of his offering hands.

She clambered on behind him, reaching around and holding on to him. _Fuck, _he was warm. Did she grip him tighter? Possibly, but she wasn't keeping track.

"Had I known all it took was a ride to get you to hold me like this, I would have taken you out sooner."

"Oh hush, Cajun. Just be thankful you're like a friggen heater," she mumbled.

He untangled her arms from around his torso and got off the bike.

She was drunk and confused. Weren't they leaving?

Either way, as he took off his trench coat and revealed just a tight shirt underneath, she decided she wouldn't mind just staying in the alley to watch him move for just a liiiiitle bit longer. He helped her off the bike (because she probably would have tripped over it in her drunken state) and placed the coat over her shoulders.

"You'll need it more than I will," he winked.

She smirked as she slipped her hands through the entirely too large coat. "Does that mean we'll be goin' fast?"

He straddled the bike again. "Possibly."

Hopping back on, she wrapped herself around his torso.

"May want to hold on tighter than that, _chére_," he advised.

"Just shut up'n drive, Cajun."

There were vague things she noticed as he zipped off. One, he wasn't wearing a helmet. And Two, he _did _drive fast. Not reckless like Lance and his jeep escapades, but like a deadly fast panther or puma or something: sleek, smooth, and fast. And lastly, even though she was bundled up in his coat, everything she could feel under his second skin/shirt was _nothing_ she could complain about.

The ride was seemingly endless yet short. He slowed down considerably once he could see the peaks of the Institute. Perhaps it was to avoid the inevitable, but she had to bite her tongue to not ask him to take another loop around Bayville. But she was getting sleepy. And her bed sounded like a little cloud of heaven.

The bike swung to a halt smack dab in front of the front gates. She groaned out loud at the sight of the Institute's front doors and let her head drop on his back.

"If you keep makin' sounds like that, I won't be inclined to let you leave," she heard him mutely through the helmet.

"Then Logan'll find you'n probably won't be inclined to let you live," she mumbled into his back.

She swung off the bike, and lifted the helmet, shaking out her hair.

"Well, Cajun, I do believe your debt's paid. Thanks for the drinks'n all that jazz. It was decent knowin' ya as a person'n not a kidnapper," she slightly slurred. Just slightly.

"You gonna be alright?"

"Ha!" she snorted, entering her pass code on the gate. "I'll be fantastic, sug." It slipped out and she didn't care one damn bit. She gave him his own salute back as she walked through. "Night, Cajun."

"_Bon nuit, chére,"_ he winked, putting the helmet on his head as he wheeled the bike back around.

She couldn't tell if the tingling was just him watching her walk away or the drunkness. Again, she didn't care. Or maybe she did. Or maybe her hips were swaying of their own accord. Again, she didn't care.

However, as she reached the door, some small voice in the back of her mind reminded her why going through the main entrance _might_ be a stupid idea. She giggled against the door, as she remembered that she had hopped off her balcony in the first place. She circled the Mansion (praying that the cameras weren't going to catch her on tape) until she spied her balcony. Hand over hand, she pulled on the ivy and brick and somehow found her way up.

"See," she muttered to herself. "Imma functional drunk. I'm fannntastic."

And she pulled on the door. It was locked.

Fuck.

She made a few more yanks, really not recalling how she could have locked it on her way out. "Aw, mannn," she groaned. Front entrance it was.

Until a hand reached out and yanked her inside. Rogue stumbled into the room and rolled on the floor. See? Fantastic.

"Rogue,_ what the hell_!" Kitty hissed lowly.

"Oh heyyyy, Kit-Kat. Why'd ya lock my door?" she implored with child like wonder.

"Your door? You're in _my_ room!" she whispered harshly.

Rogue covered her mouth and tittered into her hand. _That's _right. She had moved rooms since the last time she snuck out. This was _not _her room anymore.

"Shush! Mr. Logan's probably still up waiting for you. Do you have _any _idea what time it is! And how many times we tried to call you!"

Rogue continued to titter into her hand.

"Oh crap. Rogue?"

God, this _was _funnier than she had expected.

"Oh dear god, you're drunk aren't you?" Kitty groaned, helping Rogue get up off her giggling ass.

"Nope, cuz that would be irresponsible'n I'm not irresponsible," she slurred.

"Mmhm, tell that to Mr. Logan tomorrow." She set her up and looked at her. "Holy crap, what is that, like, horrible abomination to fashion?" Her outrage couldn't be confined to a low whisper anymore.

Rogue looked down and tittered again. "Oh shiiiit, I didn't give his jacket back. He's gonna be maaaaad."

"Who's he?"

"Who'd ya think?" And then she pushed the sleeve up to Kitty's nose. "But heaven almighty, doesn't this smell good?"

Kitty cringed. "It smells like an ashtray. Who's _is_ this?"

"Shhhh, I hear somethin'," Rogue whispered loudly. They went quiet.

"We gotta get you back to your room," Kitty barely whispered.

"But it's s'far," she moaned. "I could just stay on the floor."

But Kitty had already phased her head slightly out of the door. "It's safe, let's go."

If there was one song that she couldn't resist from humming, it was the Mission Impossible theme. Until Kitty whacked her on the head and gave her a _look_. They turned the corner and walked up to her door. Rogue fiddled with the doorknob for a second before throwing the door open.

And there Logan was, waiting in the middle of Rogue's room. They froze.

And Rogue slightly leaned over and as low as she could, whispered into Kitty's ear. "Think he's seen us?"

"I would say so."

"Act cool," Rogue advised, straightening herself out from leaning against Kitty. "Hey Logan," she greeted lightly. "'Sup?"

"Where the hell have you been?"

"Jus' comin' back from the bathroom."

He only crossed his arms tighter. "Was that bathroom a bar?"

Oh fuck. Did she really smell like bar bathroom? Gross.

"It happened t'be in the establishment, yeah," she nodded. Kitty groaned as Rogue stumbled a bit towards her bed.

"Did Gambit happen to be at that establishment?"

Kitty just barely caught a squeal behind her hand.

Rogue shrugged. "I dunno, there were lotsa people everywhere. Don't remember 'em all."

"Kid, do you really expect me to believe that?"

"I 'spect nothin'!" She exclaimed, flopping back on her bed with arms wide open. She laughed.

What would have normally been a warning sign was actually pretty entertaining at the moment. She saw his arms clenched and a little vein pop out.

"You left without telling anyone, you didn't answer our calls, and you're smashed. I miss anythin' else?"

She shook her head, smirking a little bit. "Nope, thaaaat pretty much covers it. Good times had by all," she grinned as she curled into the pillows. "'N now if you'll excuse me," she sing-songed. "Imma sleep, cuz I haven't done that in weeks." She sighed happily into her pillow, further checking out of the outside world and enjoying the tingles of her body and the scent of the coat.

"I swear I had no idea," Kitty pleaded with Logan's most unhappy face.

"Yeah, I know. You aren't in trouble. Just…" he ran an agitated hand through his hair. "Take off her shoes or somethin'. I'll deal with her tomorrow." He turned around and walked off.

Kitty turned to deal with Rogue.

"Oh, you owe me," she muttered, phasing off Rogue's combat boots. "You are _sooo_ giving me details tomorrow. Don't say I didn't warn you."

* * *

Something had been bugging Remy the minute he turned his back to Xavier's Institute for Gifted Youngsters. It followed him on his neck breaking speeds back to the bar and from there to the blonde's apartment. It crept up to him while he was… preoccupied and crept into what should have been his easy sleep. Tired of just tossing and turning and having a nagging feeling bug him, he decided to cut the sleepover short and just leave. He situated himself on his bike and sat up to adjust his coat under him.

And then it hit him. The nagging feeling exploded in his face and he groaned.

"_Merde!"_ he hissed to himself.

To make sure, he played over leaving the club. Sit on bike, girl is cold, hand girl coat, zoom. Girl gets off bike, girl stumbles away, zoom.

In no part of the night did he get his coat back.

_This_ is precisely why he should never watch a girl walk away. He's usually too enthralled to function.

He sighed. There was only one solution to this problem, and that was going to retrieve his coat.

(Because besides the fact that everything hidden/sewn into the coat was worth a pretty penny and the effort needed to actually replace everything would be a pain in the ass, he was actually quite fond of that coat…)

It would be easy, he had managed to convince himself. It was still early in the day _and_ it was a weekend. Everyone would sleep in since it was a weekend, right? He still had the Institute memorized and assuming she'd have at least taken off her shoes and jacket before she passed out, it would be a quick in and out.

And given the lack of foresight, he thought he was managing his personal recon mission pretty well. Or so he gauged by the lack of alarms/guard dogs coming at his ass as he darted across the lawn and hid behind trees. And he easily lifted himself up a tree branch (in which this particular tree was very close to the balcony and extremely useful in all his Institute exploits) and stepped with ease onto the balcony.

Pressing his ear to the glass door, he listened carefully. He heard nothing, if not faint, slight rustling noises. Based on the notes he took before, Rogue was _not_ a morning person, and her roommate Kitty was an early riser and tended to be out of the room before Rogue could kill her for being loud. Was it safe to assume that the rustling was Rogue?

He sighed. He didn't have a goddamned choice. (This would be one of those times he wished his eyes had more use to them, say for example x-ray vision).

Testing the handle, he was pleasantly relieved the door was already unlocked, considering his picks were _inside_ the room. He opened the door cautiously, peeking in slightly. He couldn't see anything but a made bed. Kitty's, right?

He opened the door further.

And was met with a cheekily grinning Kitty Pryde sitting on a revolving computer chair.

Oh damn.

"I was totally wondering when you were going to show up."

There was no second bed in the room, only a single full bed, desk, and dresser. He went over his mental floor plan. This _was _her room… right?

Regardless, it was suspicious that Kitty was just sitting there rather expectantly, nothing in sight to occupy her. It was obvious she knew something.

"Didn't know I was expected, _petite_," he raised his eyebrows.

"Rogue did mention you'd be like, _super_ mad about her keeping the coat. And like, considering Rogue couldn't even remember _where_ she lived last night, I _totally_ doubt you would have known, _especially_ since she switched rooms pretty recently. So I figured your first stop would have been here." She sat poised, grinning, and obviously quite pleased with herself.

"Quite the observation, _chaton_." He was a bit wary. Was he that predictable now? And it sounded like she'd be too fiercely loyal to give any information out about her ex-roommate. It looked like he was going to have to charm information out of her.

"I'm smarter than I look," she nodded gleefully. "Now, I understand that you're here because you want your hideous coat back, right?"

He noted her sweetly coated insult as well as the sudden businesslike tone of her question. "_Oui."_

"Then we could do this the easy way or the hard way, it's just up to you on how cooperative you want to be." She smiled sweetly, hands clasped on her lap.

"I dunno, I do like a challenge. What's the hard way?"

She faked a frown and sighed. "Well, I wouldn't be able to tell you where Rogue lives now. You'd have to do a bit of scouting first, and with all these unsuspecting girls around, you're bound to run into a screamer. Mr. Logan's room is only a few doors down and I can assure you'll catch your scent from my room alone and hunt you down, especially after last night. You wouldn't even be able to get close to Rogue's room."

He narrowed his eyes and looked at her, stroking his goatee thoughtfully. There was still a possibility to get in and out successfully.

"Not to mention the fact that I owe you nothing and can just walk right out and tell everyone you're on Institute grounds. I'm told I can be ridiculously loud." She looked up, thoughtfully pondering. "And you know, I don't think Mr. Logan, Kurt, or Scott have exactly forgiven you for the whole New Orleans fiasco."

Ugh. A lazy smirk masked his internal calculation. He ran through her powers as he leaned against the door. Phaser. He couldn't exactly keep her from going that route. Damn.

"And the easy way?"

She smiled brightly again. "You just answer a few of my questions regarding the night you had with my best friend, that's all."

Was she serious? Was she actually trying to turn an information pumping session around on him?

"But the choice is yours," she shrugged.

He sighed. She had really planned this out a lot better than he had.

Leaving the door open, he sat on the edge of her bed and took out the deck of cards hidden in his back pocket. Kitty was staring at him intently, with a serious business like face on her.

"Alright," he heaved another sigh. He hadn't nearly slept enough to make the effort to run around like a thief-for-hire again. He began shuffling his cards. "What do you wanna ask?"

He saw Kitty fight to not shriek in excitement and almost winced.

* * *

There were three things Rogue noticed as she gained consciousness.

One, she had a headache and she felt mentally fuzzy.

Two, she had to pee. Bad.

And three, a pair of red eyes was staring at her sideways.

If she recalled correctly, these three things matched up perfectly to how she felt when she woke up in a box car headed south.

She groaned and buried her face into her pillow. What _was_ it with him and reliving the past?

"It's too early to be a stalker. Stop it," she muttered into her pillow.

"Nonsense. It's never too early."

She gave a depressing groan into her pillow. "Fine. Whatever. Now leave."

"Well, someone's not a mornin' person."

Another groan, slightly more pitiful this time.

"Whaddya want?"

"To see your lovely face, of course."

She growled. "Cut the crap or I'll make sure my 'lovely face' is the last thing you'll see."

"Wakin' up so hostile isn't good for your health, y'know." She swore she heard the sound of cards shuffling.

"Wakin' up to an uninvited strange guy in your room probably isn't either, but doesn't seem to stop you."

"It's funny how you're the angry one, even though you stole my jacket."

Ah, that's why he was here.

"It's not stealin' if you gave it to me."

She felt the entire side of bed sink in and tingles run up her side. She could just _feel_ the heat of him all down her side.

"Hardly gave it to you, just let you borrow it."

She could sense some weird kind of annoyance at her. "Not my fault you didn't ask for it back."

"Was afraid you were gonna pass out on the lawn."

"Thought you didn't care."

"Didn't say I did. But your friends might."

The mention of friends made her wince into her pillow. She had acted like an idiot last night. There was no doubt Kitty was going to be bugging her today. And Logan… it was safe to say she was in for it. Oh, what a pickle she put herself in.

"Now, am I gonna have to undress you to get my coat back? 'Cuz I'll gladly do it."

She looked up from the pillow at his face and glared at him. And he lewdly grinned back as he lay so casually on the bed next to her. She was angry; he was the reason for her current predicament (or rather, the starting point. She couldn't entirely blame the night on him…justifiably…). But still… he had some nerve to hunt her down for the coat he gave her!

'Whatever,' she told herself. 'The faster he leaves, the faster I can sleep and then figure out how to talk myself out of this situation.'

She kept her eyes fixated on his while she got up on her knees and removed his coat. She hoped the look she was giving him would inhibit any sexual innuendo made available by her position on the bed. She threw it on his face.

"Happy now?"

He removed the coat and grinned lewdly again. "Actually," he started.

"You finish that and I'll make sure not even your coat is found."

He fake pouted. "What's with everyone hatin' my coat?"

"I do believe you missed the point of that," she retorted dryly. "Now leave."

"Leave! But I just got here."

"And you've overstayed your welcome, so go on and shoo." She pointed out the balcony door.

He heaved a sigh as he got up. "Fiiiiine, _chére_, Remy knows when he's not welcomed anymore." Throwing the coat over his shoulders, he walked out of her room onto the balcony as he adjusted himself in it. He took the sleeves and brought it up to his nose, grimacing. "Aww, I gotta wash this now. Smells like river rat." He grinned as he stepped onto the ledge, giving her his standard salute.

"Still smells better than the ashtray it smelt like before," she called as he jumped down off her balcony.

She could hear his chuckle as he left the Mansion grounds. Flopping back down, she buried herself in her blankets and pillows. If she was lucky, this entire occurrence was just a nightmare and she could now resume peaceful sleep.

Hell, she even allowed herself a smile. Chances are this would be the last time she would see the Cajun for a while. She was more than likely grounded until she died/turned 18 (whichever came first), meaning that she wouldn't see the stupid Cajun at random spots around town. The likelihood the him having business around the Institute was slim; granted she didn't really ask him what he was doing, but she doubted it would be anything more than thief business, not mutant thief business. Mmm, she could taste the peace already.

And then it turned horribly bitter.

"Omigosh, I thought he'd _never_ leave."

Rogue felt herself freeze in her bed. 'Let this be a dream,' she pleaded. She didn't say anything-hell, she didn't even breathe.

"Oh whatever, you are _sooo_ not asleep. Get up and fess up."

Rogue felt herself rise up slowly to glare at the small, grinning, _plotting_ girl at her door.

Kitty just smiled happily. "Nuh-uh. You have _no_ right to be angry at me."

"You were listenin' to my conversation," she deadpanned, as if her anger was that self-explanatory.

"And you lied to me, ignored me, woke me up in the middle of the night, _and_ made me walk your drunken ass back to your room. I win!" She pounced on the end of Rogue's bed.

Rogue groaned and flipped back into her mountain of bed goodness.

"Ohh no no!" Kitty sang. "You are so giving me details!"

"I'm not givin' you anythin'!" she protested into her pillow.

"I warned you!"

"You did _not!_"

"Yep! I did too as I took off your shoes."

"I was passed out!"

"Not my fault! Now spill."

Rogue said nothing. Maybe she would get the picture and just leave if she refused to talk.

"If you don't tell me anything, I'll have to take Gambit's version of your night as the whole truth."

Rogue's head popped up dangerously fast. "What do you mean _Gambit's version_?" she asked slowly through gritted teeth.

Kitty leaned back and pretended to preen her nails nonchalantly. "Well, considering _you_ couldn't even find your room last night, how do you think he figured out where your new one was?" She smiled so sweetly, so conspiratorially.

If Rogue could grow claws, she felt she could have based on how tightly her hands were gripping the bed and how bad she wanted to strangle the girl in front of her. "You told him where my room was just to get information out of him?" she asked slowly, quietly.

"Yep!"

Rogue lay down slowly and placed a pillow over her face. 'Breathe in, breathe out,' she reminded herself. 'Whatever he said couldn't be that bad… right?' Based on past "juicy gossip time" with Kitty, she had to severely damper whatever thoughts entered the younger girl's head-fast. Rogue forced herself to calm down. Just like any other instance, it was just a matter of setting the record straight.

And Remy wasn't the most truthful person to begin with, so she could easily call upon Kitty's more reasonable side to wake the fuck up and smell the truth.

She pulled the pillow off her face and heaved a huge sigh. "Nothin' _happened_, Kit. He made me go to a bar with him, we played a couple games of pool, and I drank a lot. He gave me a ride home. That's _it,_" she stressed.

"Come _on!_ There has to be way more juicy details than that!"

"Uh, he and the waitress were about to screw right in front of me?"

Kitty threw her hands up in the air and sighed loudly. "You are _totally_ not working with me!"

"Well what the hell do you want me to say!"

"How about-" Kitty started off loudly and stopped abruptly when heavy knocking started on Rogue's door.

"Stripes."

"Damnit," she and Kitty both simultaneously whispered, probably for different reasons.

"I know you're awake."

They just looked at each other, Rogue with a slight grimace and Kitty glowering at the interruption, obviously foiled in her plans.

"Come in," Rogue grumbled.

The door opened. Logan stood in the doorway, arms crossed and face most displeased. His eyes zeroed in on Kitty.

"Half-pint. Out."

She mumbled under her breath as she got off Rogue's bed. Before she phased out of the wall, she turned back and pointed at Rogue. "I'll be back. Don't even try to hide. I'll find you."

Rogue wasn't sure whether to be grateful for Logan's interference or not.

Logan closed the door behind him. "Well?"

"Well what?" she sulked, not willing to give up more information that may or may not incriminate her.

"Well, what the hell were you thinkin'?" His voice was sharp and gruff. Logan was not a happy camper.

She gave him a stony look back. There were too many sharp comments at her tongue, but she knew that until he chewed her out for a little bit, whatever she wanted to say would only fuel the fire.

"Nobody knew you were gone, you lied to all of us, and you come home drunk. Which part of this seemed like a good idea?"

She narrowed her eyes and bore down, trying to not let her anger flare. "I didn't mean for the night to happen like that. I just needed to get out. You of all people should understand that." She spoke quiet and slow through gritted teeth, making it obvious of her anger at being made to feel stupid was bubbling underneath her words. She really didn't want to go into why she left, especially the Jean and Scott part. That was just embarrassing.

His eyes narrowed at her dangerously. "I let my teammates _know_ where I am. Do you realize what you just leavin' looked like? It looked like the exact same thing that happened earlier this year!" Logan's voice grew louder.

"Like I _said,_ I didn't mean for it to turn out like that. I wasn't even gonna be out that long, but I lost track of time." She fought to not match his volume. While she could understand that he was upset with her (to say the least), she was beginning to feel like he once again didn't try to understand her.

"And what the hell were you doin' at a bar to begin with!" he near yelled.

"I wasn't at the bar to begin with!" she yelled back. "I was at a coffee shop and he asked me if I wanted to go to a bar with him!"

"So you went with him thinkin' he wouldn't pull the same stunt? Jesus, Rogue, where's your head!"

His voice was louder than ever and it rang through her ears hotly. She hated being talked down to. She flung herself off the bed and slapped the pillow down on her bed. "No, I went with him thinkin' I was gonna have a good time and _I did_! My head is_ perfectly fine_," she hissed.

She felt her body quiver in anger as Logan's face went blank. He didn't say anything as he took measured breath.

"I didn't say anythin' that last time."

And she realized she didn't see his mouth move or face animate or _anything_ that last time either, only that his words were loud in her head. Oh shit…

_Oh fuck…_

Closing her eyes and clenching her fists, she worked her ass off to not look alarmed, to calm her breathing, her pulse, her body. 'A fluke,' she told herself. 'It happens, it's okay- it's just a fluke, _calm down damnit…_'

"Rogue…"

Damnit, she really didn't want to go through this again. Her eyes flashed to Logan's face, mouth set, eyes narrowed.

"What's my punishment?" she asked quickly, firmly, before he could ask anything further. Today wasn't the best day to open up _that_ can of worms.

Logan eyed her coolly for a moment before responding. "A week of extra DR sessions."

She held her breath for the 'and' part, and was thankful it never came. "Fine."

He took another long look at her. "Starts tomorrow. 5am."

"Okay."

He opened the door and left, closing it somewhat softly.

She heard him walk down a bit before yelling "Back into your rooms or it'll be Danger Room for all of you!"

As she collapsed on her bed, she winced. That hadn't gone well _at all_.

* * *

Honestly, why does life fly by faster the times when you don't want it to? The week went by way too fast. Hell, I didn't even realize it was update day until today, making me a day late. Sorry guys, I meant to have this out earlier this week. Life… it's just a whirlwind sometimes.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Much more Remy in it and much more drama. This was a pretty fun chapter to write. Thank you to all my previous reviewers- your comments make me happy, even if I can't express my thanks to you directly. Please review and tell me what I'm doing wrong/right/etc. I love feedback and pondering on the comments you give me!

And in the (slightly different) words of the guy who brought me the drink in my hand, "Stay awesome, my friends!"


	7. Like A Trail of Cigarette Butts

**Title: **The Wreckage

**Disclaimer: **I don't even own the rights to my soon to be college degrees and will not for many, many, many years… It's called a starving student, and by the state of my fridge, I'm living the dream.

**Pairing:** Rogue and Remy

**Rating: **Teen/Mature

**Warnings:** Contains dark and adult themes

**Summary: **It's what happens when two sides collide. The explosion between what you want and what you need, what's right and what's wrong. It's the wreckage. And it could be so easy. ROMY.

**The Wreckage**

**Chapter Seven**

**Like A Trail of Cigarette Butts**

Cold liquid filled her lungs as she tried so hard to breathe the remaining air before the tube sealed her in- indefinitely. Choking, she heard the distant beeping in her ear. This wasn't right.

Rogue sputtered and coughed, choking on air that still felt so good. It felt as though she was living and breathing for the first time. It felt _so good_.

What didn't feel so good? Hearing the screeching alarm clock Kitty _insisted_ on getting her, claiming it would wake her up in no time. Kitty wasn't wrong on that account. Maybe she would one day thank Kitty for getting her an alarm that would pull her out a memory-death.

But that day wasn't today. After all, that clock was still obnoxious and it was still too early.

"I hate you."

She glared a glary, sleepy eye. It blinked, flashed its angry red at her. The reverberation rang throughout the whole room.

"No."

She growled. It blinked its three figured head at her more. And it screeched.

"I _fuckin' hate you_."

It deserved to be hit.

So she smacked it. A good one apparently; it easily flew across the room and resounded with a thud and sound of plastic shattering. She growled again. Louder.

"It. Is. Way. Too. Fuckin'. Early."

Damn skippy.

* * *

"C'mon, Stripes!"

"C'mon what?" She held back through gritted teeth.

"You're gettin' slow," he commented.

"Yea, well it's not like I'm not tryin'!"

"Try harder!"

She growled and rushed him. He dodged her with a quick side swipe.

"Don't let your anger guide you."

"I'm not angry," she growled, skidding back to a stance.

"Then what?"

"I'm just tryin', Jesus!"

"Then try harder!"

"I am!"

He threw another roundabout her way. She made a feeble attempt to cross her arms, brace herself against the mat, and block it. Nonetheless, the brunt force forced her back off the protective mat, onto the cold steel, and flat on her ass.

She felt her anger peak bright bloody red and snarled impressively before launching herself up and trying to rush him again with fake right hook followed by a high kick. He blocked her but grunted as he was scooted backwards a few feet. Before he could be pushed off the mat, he tangled his legs with her to effectively trip her, flip her, and knock her off the mat.

"Alright, that's it, Stripes," he sighed in exasperation. She pounded her fists into the ground in anger. She hated that tone of his voice. His disappointed-why-bother-anymore tone. She _had_ been trying. However, it was hard to be physical when your night consisted of being absurdly livid and being trapped and forcefully shoved into an oxygenated stasis tube. She wouldn't say anything; at this point, it all just sounded like an excuse. These memory explanations could spout out of her mouth for every fault and be valid. By why bother?

Logan looked at her, at her angered fists, about to say something. Slightly berating, she would be sure of it. Something along the lines as, what's been wrong with you all week? But he took a slow breath, looked away, and started walking towards the entrance. "Tomorrow, same time," was his parting remark. She stared even as the doors shut behind him.

"What, am I too fragile to hear some goddamned constructive criticism now?" She sneered bitterly, knowing there was the very high possibility of his super hearing catching her words. 'Yeah, I know I fought like shit today. And yesterday. And the fuckin' day before. Fuck me if can't do this shit anymore.'

And she got angry. Some shit was always happening, always causing people to walk on eggshells around her. Granted, her drunken adventure was completely her fault, but what about everything else? Everything about her was so taboo that she could quiet a party if she walked in. And when she would talk to people, it was always "How are you? How are you feeling? How did you sleep? Have you slept? Have you eaten?" It was like being in the Med Bay under constant surveillance, except everyone was watching her fuck up and be fucked up all the time.

Like everyone was waiting, watching for signs that would prove her insane and unstable again.

And how could they not? With two boulders sized indentations embedded in the steel flooring on either side of her, which had obviously not been there before she slammed her fists into the ground?

She screamed in frustration.

* * *

He had to strain to not whistle Dixie as he walked around, casing the place. So far he had counted only 5 cameras surrounding the area. Considering the property spanned well over a dozen acres, 5 cameras was nowhere near enough coverage for such a vast area. He inspected the ground carefully. For as far out as he could see, the grounds were covered in just grass- grass with the multitude of trees and flower beds closer to the actual building. He smirked- he knew whose handiwork was the flower beds.

He could see no indications of pop-out weapons in any place other than the front of the Institute. Even without looking he could see the indentations on the stone work and on the hedge of the lawn. But curiously, he could find no indications near the balcony of students. Did they trust that every opponent would go through the front gate? Or was this a safety precaution to not accidently shoot teenagers who tried to sneak out (like Rogue had)? Or did they have faith that teenagers would sneak out through the Mansion using _doors_?

Remy felt fairly confident that he wasn't going to get blown up by under-lawn sensors (which would be a fabulous idea really, but probably impractical and dangerous for a school of mutant kids) as he jumped the fence towards the back of Institute. He briefly toyed with the idea of just hacking the main gate and going through the front door, but where was the fun in that? He was going to do this the right way (as right as this could get, anyways) and fully stake the place out, finding its weaknesses, its strengths, its booby traps, etc.

Wandering around the back, he saw the open garage and the path leading up to it. Surely, there had to be alarms near it, right? Considering he saw some _very_ shiny cars and bikes just sitting there, he hoped the best for these owners. Most of the older, well kept cars would go for a pretty penny where he was from.

He made his way into the somewhat familiar mansion. Granted, he had never actually been inside and had only seen the newest floor plans months ago, it still felt like déjà vu. He entered through some sort of mud room, and then was led into the kitchen. He wasn't scared so much that he'd run into someone. As far as he knew, only the professor, Logan, and Ororo were home. Hank, he could be sure was somewhere down in the medical bay. If he had to guess, Ororo was doing something peaceful and Zen, while Logan was the one in the garage or out and about on his bike. The professor… well, he probably already knew Remy was there.

Through the kitchen he walked down the halls. There was a fancy door and behind said fancy door was… and elevator. He grinned, little tingles of excitement running down his back. This was the part he had never seen before in his floor plans. Does he dare?

Before pressing the button, he thought better of it. While he was extremely curious, a thief breaking into the X-Men stronghold purely on the basis of just curiosity wasn't going to win him any brownie points. But still, if things ended up not working out, he promised himself a later tryst with their almost military-like base.

He continued walking down the hall, taking note of a very large recreation room, a large library, a few smaller study looking rooms, possibly a music room, and a very large dining room, with one extremely long table (or a long progression of smaller tables) and another huge, fancy, yet closed door. The professor's office, perhaps?

At the end of the long, loop-like main floor, he saw the huge glass doors of the entry way and then the grand staircase.

'Don't mind if I do,' he thought cheerfully as he walked up the huge staircase. Reaching the top, he looked both ways. Going one way, it was painfully obvious to the nose he was in the boy's area. It smelt like boy- too much cologne, not enough cleaning. He wondered how Logan lived by that.

Not caring to go back down the guys' side, he went to the opposite side, mentally reviewing the rooms he had passed to get to Kitty's balcony, and then Rogue's. He stopped at Rogue's. Did he want to freak her out and let her know he had been here? Maybe later.

He continued down the long hallway (as it smelt considerably sweeter on this side) that ended at a partially open door that led up a dark staircase. Was this the attic? Who was in the attic?

Slowly and carefully, he walked up the slightly creaking steps. It was ridiculously bright instead of dark for some reason. He smirked, smelling the greenery and hearing the "rain". He knew what this was. Remy let the second door open slowly.

He walked noiselessly towards the slight humming and turned back. Leaning against the pillar, he waited for her to catch him. It took her no time.

"So you finally decided to make your appearance," she spoke lightly, a hint of regal amusement in her voice.

"Didn't know I was expected," he grinned. He was expected a second time, really? Was he that predicable now?

"I had hoped you would have at least come around to say hello when you got into the area, you scoundrel."

Remy's grin widened at her well meaning berating. "It's good to see you again, Stormy."

Putting down the gardening gloves, Ororo chuckled and turned to finally meet him. She moved towards him, smiling tenderly, somberly. "While the… circumstances are unfortunate, it is good to see you again, Remy." She hugged him and he kissed her on the cheek.

His grin turned slightly melancholic. It was always best to get the bones in the closet out of the way first. "So he did tell you," he mumbled into her floral smelling hair.

"You know that Old Cajun can't keep a secret from me."

He scoffed, backing away slightly to look at her fully. "How's he?" he asked, slightly somberly.

"Overall, he's well. It sounds as though he's become a bit concerned that you didn't take his advice right away. I have had a few calls inquiring about your… whereabouts."

He should feel flattered that his family decided to cleverly check up on him despite the seemingly rigid terms of exile. He should have never doubted they would find a loophole. But that would also mean the cat was definitely out of the bag and coming with a clean slate would be near impossible now.

"The more he pushes, the more I resist. He knows that," he shrugged with a smirk.

"No matter," she sighed loftily. "I hardly took his call as one to get a room ready."

"Oh yeah?"

"I know your tendencies. I took his call as… a forewarning of sorts," she smiled ruely.

He laughed. "Now whatever could you mean, Stormy?"

She gave him a pointed look. "Trouble follows you like a trail of cigarette butts. Don't deny it."

"This Cajun? Never!"

"Then am I wrong in the assumption _you _were the Cajun who took one of our students to a bar and let her get smashed?"

The expression on his face was a strange mix between a smirk and a wince. "Why did I think you wouldn't hear about that?"

"I wouldn't have. But Logan did. And based on the fighting match they had the next morning, the entire Institute heard about it as well."

He ran his hand through his hair, slightly guilty. He didn't think it would be that big a deal and she'd get in _that_ much trouble.

"Like a trail cigarette butts," she sighed. "Other than that, however, I haven't even seen indications you've been around. Considering the situation, it was a bit… worrisome," she confessed, a small frown on her face.

Well, poo. Now he felt even guiltier.

He sighed. It was time to come out with it. "_Desolé_, I got caught up in some… interesting projects," he considered slowly.

She cocked her head slightly. "I had thought so. Is everything alright?"

He paused before continuing. However family they were, he needed to word this precisely right in order to get his intentions cleanly across.

"Yes and no," he began. "The projects I've been doin' have become a bit… personal."

Knowing the thief code of detachment when it came to jobs, this was disconcerting. She frowned. "How personal?"

"Well, it ain't thief business anymore… its mutant business. X-Men business." Remy watched Ororo's face becoming stone serious. "Need to talk to your professor about it, see if it's somethin' he's interested in."

She nodded solemnly. "Now would be the best time, before the students come back from school." She began to walk through the attic to the door before stopping suddenly. Turning only slightly, she looked at him through the corners of her eye with a slight smile.

"This wouldn't happen to be your way of asking for a spot on the team, would it?"

He only grinned cheekily. Ororo chuckled, leading him down the staircase. They entered the end of the girls' dormitory before heading down the staircase. As they descended, he began noticing little embellishments and larger decoration s across the mansion. How did he not notice the artistic delicacies of the Institute on his first round?

He whistled low as he passed a particularly stunning statue and across it, a gorgeous mosaic. About to open his mouth and ask, he was stopped.

"Don't even think about it, Rembrandt Etienne."

"Just curious, sheesh," he mumbled, feeling akin to just being caught sneaking a sample of dinner by his _Tante_.

They stopped at the large door he presumed before was Xavier's office. Ororo rested her hand on the door knob, hesitating until the invitation to come in was audible. The door swung open and he felt slightly nervous as he stepped into the lavishly classic room. He didn't realize that at the present moment, much more than his future was hanging on the line.

"Welcome. I see you finally made it to my office. Did you enjoy your… self guided tour?" The professor wheeled his chair out from behind his desk and extended a hand towards Remy with the vague hints of an amused smile.

Remy took his hand and gripped it firmly, a grin on his face. "Would have been nice if there were audio headsets at the gate, but I can't complain."

The professor motioned to the chair behind him. "Please sit, Gambit. I would imagine you aren't here to admire the decor."

Remy sat carefully down on the chair, Ororo following suit. "'Fraid not, but maybe some other time."

"Now what brings you here today?"

He took a deep, quiet breath before popping out his cards and flipping them. This wasn't a normal business proposition; he hardly needed to charm, outwit, or focus on keeping a neutral poker face here. Hell, he was talking to a serious telepath about a serious issue. In fact, he was a wee bit nervous.

"'M gonna assume with all your… resources, you know the gist of who I am and what I do?"

The professor nodded curtly. "I have gathered some basic knowledge about you and your previous occupations, yes."

"Ever since Magneto's contract expired, I've been takin' on some private jobs. Nothin' big, just small easy jobs. Took one a few weeks back, didn't seem so strange. Didn't know names, just that they had a rather large price for a small piece of information. Nothin' I'm not used to, but where they had me go made me curious."

He leaned back, card shuffling in hand, watching the Professor's reaction through steepled hands.

"As a man in my profession, I'm taught not to get too involved with a heist if you can't help it. 'S easier that way. Don't go through the information I gather, but I did this time. Turns out the information appealed a bit to my mutant side," he explained, almost bitterly.

In his hands appeared a small sd card. He handed it to the Professor. "_S'il vous plait_?" The professor took it wordlessly, popping into the computer.

"The first job I took was a pharmaceutical company, but the information I got wasn't bout regular research. They're talkin' experiments and cures just like everybody else, except they made actual plans in there. That's in the first folder."

Ororo jumped up and over to the computer, leaning over and peering into the screen. He knew what was on there, almost by heart. Files on procedures, scientific equations, and programs.

"Didn't think much of it to be honest. But then they called me a second time."

He knew they were still listening as they opened and scrolled through documents and documents.

"The second job was pricier. They wanted the same thing, but at a bigger pharmaceutical company. I didn't realize until later that that company's tied to the government. That information's in the second folder."

This was the part he was a bit ashamed about. He was stupid about this part, not checking the job before rushing headlong into it.

"The regular files said the same thing: cures, sentinels, capturing, and questioning. But I didn't see the hidden files before I gave it to them. And hackin' took longer since I don't have my usual equipment here. I finally got the rest of the information out last night."

He watched the Professor's eyebrows furrow deeply.

"As you can tell, they got some pretty detailed files on some of your students here," his voice quieted. Ororo gasped sharply.

The professor mouth set into a grim line, scrolling through the pages.

"Thought I could just get rid of the information, but ain't just my problem anymore. It's pretty easy to see where they're gonna try to go with this. Doesn't help that the kids are rounded up here ten months outta the year."

"Rembrant, why didn't you come to us sooner?" Her voice was sharp and her eyes livid.

"Wouldn't have been safe for anyone," his eyes burned into hers. "The guys who hired me ain't stupid enough to forget Imma Thief and a mutant. They'd've assumed I'm loyal to the Guild, but in the case I wasn't, they woulda expected it too. It woulda been grounds to put a hit on me, and I don't exactly need that attention right now. Not to mention it would have sped up the processes of whatever they're gonna do."

"You're exiled. You aren't part of the Guild anymore," Ororo responded harshly, as if reminding him of the terms of his punishment.

"But they don't know that," he defended himself darkly, halting his shuffling.

"And how do you figure you are not falling into their trap?"

"I don't. 'M just livin' up to my name," Remy shrugged simply.

The Professor moved it attention back to Gambit, gazing intently. "I thank you for bringing this information to my attention. It is without a doubt you have saved countless lives here and elsewhere."

Remy merely shrugged again, slightly uncomfortable with the intense staring. "When it started namin' names, it didn't really sit right just to let it go."

"Might I ask what you will be doing next in terms of employment?"

He saw Ororo's gaze quirk to his and her silent plea to think about his answer carefully. Remy considered his answer carefully with an equally carefully executed poker face. "I go wherever my services are needed."

* * *

A lone motorcycle skidded across the gravel in front of the Main gate. The Wolverine kicked off his bike and began entering his code when he smelt something vaguely… fishy.

Fishy… like gumbo.

Gumbo… like Cajun.

Cajun… like dead Cajun.

The gate opened and he ripped through the entrance, following the scent that led to the garage. He snarled, quickly counting the remaining cars in the garage he had foolishly left open. All there. He kicked up his stand, yanking off his helmet as he tracked the sent following up to the house. Ripping open the back door, he braced himself to attack.

Nothing there. He followed the scent through the lower level through all the rooms.

And then there was Storm and Gumbo's scent, lingering together, in front of the Professor's office.

Oh snap, he had a feeling he was going to be mad.

Not bothering to knock, he threw the professor's door open.

And there Gumbo was, leaned over the Professor's desk, shaking his outstretched hand, grinning, smirking…

"Oh, you gotta be kiddin' me, Chuck," he growled. Logan _knew_ that handshake, that satisfied small smile whenever the Professor made a beneficial deal.

"Logan, I'd like you to meet our newest member, Remy LeBeau." Logan could tell the Professor was fighting back an amused smile with great effort.

"_Bonjour. _Lookin' forward to workin' with the infamous Wolverine," the smug smirking bastard greeted him. He growled.

"You," he snarled, "are dead." How _dare_ he waltz into the Institute, with barely a week passing between his second adventures with Rogue.

"Logan," Ororo warned.

"Oh no, 'Ro. I gotta bone to pick with him."

One stern look from the livid goddess and he halted his march. "You will do no such thing."

Professor Xavier sighed. And it began. "Remy, I trust we will be seeing you tomorrow?"

"Oui, bright and early," he nodded his head, still amused by the dueling alpha powers.

"Ororo, if you would please see our guest out? I would like to have a couple words with Logan."

"Of course, Charles." She stood out, smoothing her skirt down along with the last vestiges of her anger. "Remy, if you have the time, I'd like to show you how to use what we call _a door_."

He chuckled. "A door? _Mais, _whatever do you mean, Stormy?" he asked as he walked past Logan.

Logan briefly lunged at him, attempted to scare him. Remy remained unfazed and only tipped his head. Oh, he'd feel the fear soon enough.

The door had shut securely behind them when Logan whipped his head around and narrowed his eyes at the Professor. "Of all the people, Chuck…"

Charles held up his hand. "I understand your misgivings. His past decisions have been questionable and with the recent events, I can understand your anger."

"So then I can kill him?"

"Logan, the information he has provided us today has possibly saved the lives of many of our students, not to mention other mutants who have caught the public eye."

Logan's fists unclenched and dropped. "Not followin' you, Chuck."

"He came with information regarding possible blueprints for cures, registration acts, sentinels, and most importantly, information that the possibly the government gathered from some of the students here."

Well, his anger towards the Cajun dissipated slightly. "Where the hell did he get it?" Then he thought better of it. "Nevermind. Stupid question. What's the catch?"

Charles looked slightly taken aback. "Nothing."

"He's a thief. Thieves don't work for free."

"And thieves are humans that can still have morals."

"He's kidnapped and intoxicated a minor. Twice. I don't think highly of his morals."

"He asked for nothing. In fact, I'm almost certain his only wish was to have some sort of stable housing and a base to work in."

"Aren't telepaths supposed to be absolutely sure?"

"His mind is difficult to read. Any probing without his consent would have alerted him to suspicion. And with the students' line on the life, I found it best to accept the information that was given without pressuring him for confirmation."

Logan groaned and slumped back onto the chair, running a hand through his hair exasperatedly. "So that's all? He gives you information and you give him a spot on the team?"

Charles smiled ruefully. "Not only has he offered to look and work further into this situation, but he has offered his services in updating the security system around the grounds."

Logan groaned again. A thief knowing a mutant base security didn't sound too comforting. "Chuck…" he whined.

"We can't afford to risk security around the grounds any longer. I appreciate your efforts, but he is a professional and has a particular expertise that I would feel more than comfortable enforcing."

"How do you know this isn't a trick?"

"Ororo vouched for him."

Logan sighed. It was decent evidence that this kid wasn't going to screw them all over. Rubbing his face, he groaned. If he thought he was sufficiently annoyed now, how in the _hell_ was he going to handle this cocky kid? How would he manage to _not _kill the kid? And not even mentioning throwing Rogue into the mix… He groaned again.

"Logan, the serious situation aside, I do believe you are, how shall I put it, blowing things out of proportion. Remember what you thought when St. John and Piotr accepted my invitation?"

Logan waved him off. "But this one's different. We already knew Piotr was a good kid and hell, we even knew St. John was a loose cannon. But Gambit? He's _cocky_ and _sneaky_. Too damn sneaky. And the kid's a thief. The kids don't need any more of that around."

"Perhaps some of his character and previous profession was questionable," Charles nodded to Logan's snort. "But I do believe he will be a good addition to the team, however temporary or extended his stay may be. I have no reason to believe his presence will be ultimately detrimental."

This was still hard to wrap his head around.

"Perhaps your hesitancy lies in the anticipation of how Rogue will react?"

Logan blew out a breath he didn't even know he was holding. Was he even projecting? Didn't matter now. The guy was good.

"She doesn't _need_ this in her life now, Chuck."

"Perhaps she can decide what she needs in her life. She is almost a legal adult, after all."

Logan threw his hands up in the air. "The girl's too damn stubborn to know what's good for her. She ain't doin' so well, but she's too damn hardheaded to let anyone know."

"She will open up with time. As difficult as it is, we cannot push her just as we cannot hide her from things that may or may not have the potential to hurt her. Yes, she is in a delicate place, but she will not grow with a continually over-protective attitude."

"Gah," was Logan's only response. Charles was right, but annoyingly so.

Charles smiled a bit. "Who knows, old friend. Perhaps her reaction won't be quite as extreme as you predict."

* * *

The only thing Rogue wanted to do when she got home was change into pajamas and take a nice, well-deserved nap. So when she entered her room, she dropped her bag by her desk and began to disrobe. She reached over and pulled out her pajama draw, changing into some sweats and a sweater. She marched over to her bed and proceeded to curl up and sigh happily.

Her hand curled up under her pillow.

And hit some thing. Something thin. And papery.

Rogue's head lifted up as she grasped the small item disrupting her nap time. What the hell?

A playing card. An ace of spades, to be specific. Her eyes narrowed.

She shot up slowly and looked around. The doors were closed, nothing was missing, nothing was moved. Her head shot down under the bed. Nothing there besides boxes.

Walking over to the balcony, she looked out. Nothing there, no one watching. She walked back into her room.

And noticed another card sticking out of her mirror. An ace of clubs. She fought to not look into it… but wasn't that one about starting over or something? She shook the thought out of her head, still analyzing her room.

Nothing else jumped out at her. She took her cards and sat on her bed. It occurred to her that she should be more disturbed about him being in her room and leaving things.

But then again, she had been seeing him way too freaking much this last week.

Remy LeBeau was _everywhere_.

Considering she really wasn't one for venturing outside the Institute grounds much, whenever she _did_ leave, he was around. When she went with Ms. Monroe to help out with grocery shopping, he was checking out of the store, meeting her dumbfounded stare with his cocky salute. When she was stopped at the light in the passenger seat of the car Kitty was driving, he was right next to her, on his bike, lifting up his helmet and winking at her. When she was walking from the parking lot of school, he was zooming away on the opposite side of the street, giving her a wink and a smirk, probably whistling Dixie like the smug bastard he was.

Rogue honestly couldn't tell if it was coincidence anymore or if he really _was_ stalking her.

The cards certainly didn't help relieve her suspicions. What the fuck was he doing here? And did Logan know? And should she be worried?

She sighed. She didn't care- all she wanted was her nap. Throwing the cards off the bed, she curled up on her side and smiled happily. Her eyes fluttered open for a moment, then closed again.

And shot back open. She shot out of bed and yanked open her underwear drawer.

Placed delicately on top, was a joker.

Now she was disturbed. Disturbed and angry

"SWAMP RAT!"

* * *

Sorry everyone. I had everything down, but then I got super indecisive about how to cut/edit/add crap into this chapter. Indecisiveness is the story of my life at the moment. I'm going to work my ass off to get the next chapter out today/tomorrow. Y'all deserve another chapter this week.

Thank you to all my reviewers and the massive amounts of people who added me on alerts and etc. I'm glad people are reading and find this worthwhile. Please review or give me some criticism, I enjoy reading everything you all send me.

Next chapter: Guess who makes some unlikely friends and comes to dinner?


	8. If It Wasn't a Party Here Before

**Title: **The Wreckage

**Disclaimer: **I don't even own the rights to my soon to be college degrees and will not for many, many, many years… It's called a starving student, and by the state of my fridge, I'm living the dream.

**Pairing:** Rogue and Remy

**Rating: **Teen/Mature

**Warnings:** Contains dark and adult themes

**Summary: **It's what happens when two sides collide. The explosion between what you want and what you need, what's right and what's wrong. It's the wreckage. And it could be so easy. ROMY.

**The Wreckage**

**Chapter Eight**

**If It Wasn't a Party Here Before, It Bloody Is Now**

Rogue popped three pills and took a sloppy swig from her water bottle before collapsing unceremoniously against the tree trunk. Sometimes she felt like she could simply just slip away any second; in her more morbid times, she thought this feeling would be akin to dying. Her tiredness, the psyches, her general wanting to not BE there anymore was slowly taking over. It was the closest thing to being alone and relaxed she had been in a few days, and yet she couldn't let go all the way for various reasons. One, the psyches would feed her some deliciously horrid memories, and two, letting lose under a tree during the middle of lunch was hardly appropriate or safe for herself or others.

So there she sat, slumped, curled up pathetically underneath her lunchtime tree. Her earphones blasted something, didn't matter what really, to fight the voices that were competing with the music. She covered her eyes with oversized sunglasses; it was bright and cold outside and the psyches managed to give a big enough migraine to see spots and be blinded by anything with light. Overall, she hurt and… she had the peculiar feeling she was being watched.

She let loose an annoyed sigh. Really? In the middle of a school day, during the only alone break she had, pretty much ever? The gods obviously weren't happy with her for some reason. Originally, she had thought that reducing her time outside of the Mansion and school would ultimately reduce the chance of randomly running into him, but apparently not.

But this time was no coincidence. She took out her earphones and set them down on her lap feebly. "Really, Cajun? What do you want?" She couldn't stop her utter fatigue and annoyance from leaking out. She could feel his goddamned cocky smirk spread across his face and with just a smidge more energy than she presently had, she'd smack it off his face in a jiffy. A light chuckle filled the air.

The tree she was leaning on slightly rustled and she heard the silent sound of a figure swing down lithely. Opening her eyes wasn't necessary.

"Aw, _chere,_ I think you know what I want," she heard him croon way too close to her ear.

"A slap on the face? Or how about a kick to the balls?" she lazily sneered, swatting away his face, not caring to give him the satisfaction of being near her with such inane answers.

"Must you be so violent, _chére_?"

"What can I say, you just manage to bring out the very best in me," she mumbled dryly. One eye slit open from behind her sunglass cave. He had wordlessly and quite unabashedly made a spot for himself next to her. She closed her eyes again. She heard him rustle his coat pockets silently.

He ignored her comment. "I must say, Rogue, as good of a mood as you're in, you look… _un peu fatiguée. _Were you up all night chasin' me in your dreams?"

She groaned at his horribly lame joke. "That was so bad it wasn't even funny. The only way to redeem yourself is to get hit by a bus. Hurry along now." She flicked her hand towards the street.

"Maybe I was wrong before. You seem a bit more hostile than usual. It's just a hop, skip, and a jump away from solvin' that problem…" he trailed off, leaving her to figure out his drinking offer.

"That hardly solves the problem," she deadpanned.

He didn't respond for a few minutes. She was grateful. 'If only he was this quiet all the time and didn't demand as much attention as a five year old,' she though vaguely, trying to keep afloat of the voices, but rest at the same. She heard the shuffling of his cards ever once in a while in the back of her mind. She didn't mind, really. It kept her grounded to reality, while her body twitched occasionally during her drifting haze. She felt herself drift further and further into the lonely black space of her mind and heard less and less of shuffling cards… exactly what they wanted, they whispered.

Her body gave a frightening twitch and up she went, gasping, choking, coughing for air. She fumbled for her water bottle blindly. Her. Head. Hurt. Uncapping her water bottle, she chugged it, pausing only for her gasping breath. Grabbing more pills, she threw them to the back of her mouth and chugged more water.

"You okay?"

She took a quiet minute to regroup herself, safely hidden behind her sunglasses. It was a frightening thought to know she could _feel_ the psyches dragging her down into their memories. This was starting to be a _very_ tiring ordeal.

"You do know you could get arrested for bein' here, right?" she spoke quietly after regaining her bearings, ignoring his earlier question.

"Only if they catch me. Didn't know you cared," he lazily drawled back after a moment. He knew when to drop something. Smart boy.

"Of course I care. If they caught you, who else would be here to leave shit in my room for no reason?" she mused saccharinely.

"'xactly. I'm glad you get it."

Sighing loudly, she turned to glare at him through her glasses. "Why _are_ you here? Not enough skirts for you to chase so you decided to bug me to death?"

He chuckled. "Can't chase if you ain't wearin' a skirt today."

"So you did come to kill me. Faaaantastic." She rolled her eyes and settled back down against the tree trunk.

"_En fait_, I got some good news, thought you'd like to share in the celebration with me." There was a smirk in his voice.

He had peaked her curiosity. But would she let him know that?

No.

"Did you actually decide to let me live and leave me alone for good?" she mock gasped. "You're right, Cajun, that is some good news."

He let out a hearty laugh.

"_Au contraire, chére,"_ he began, as the hideous bell of doom screeched the end of her lunchtime hour. He stopped, grinned, and stood up, offering his partially gloved hand to Rogue.

She glared at it, ignored it, and pushed herself up off the ground, slightly stumbling against the broad trunk of tree as the black spots in her vision cleared.

"Well, I guess you got your wish for now. I'll just have to show you the real good news later then," he smirked, handing her bag and half empty water bottle to her impatient hand. She grabbed them, glared, and turned, walking towards the hoards of students entering the school.

"Be seein' you, Rogue," she heard his amused voice quietly behind her.

"Hope not," she sneered under her breath.

She shuffled to her class, sunglasses in all, trying to ignore the drone of voices and constant pressure. Much to her annoyance, she concentrated on his visit to keep herself from going insane at school. What the hell did he want? And why would he want to share good news with her? Was he that bored and lonely that he had to bug her all the time? It's not like they were _friends_ or anything… And she grimaced at this dysfunctional relationship she seemed to have been thrown in. Maybe she'd tell St. John that Remy was back in town. He did tend to include a lot of stories about him… they were close, right? St. John would do a good job keeping him away from her, right?

She didn't remember when the last 6 pain relievers finally took effect, but it wasn't soon enough. Everything still hurt, but her head was still somewhat quieter than before. Muted. Like you have some cotton balls in your ears; not enough to take out the noise, but enough to quiet it, and mildly reduce the pain. Instead of sharp pangs hitting her everywhere, it felt like her head was simply about to explode with pressure.

At the end of the day, she shuffled back to the parking lot. Kitty met her, swinging the keys around her finger, laughing about something with Kurt and Lance.

"Woah, what's up with you?"

"Headache, tired," she waved her hand dismissively and slid into the passenger car, not caring to join in their conversation while they waited for the others to arrive.

The car filled soon and Kitty took off. Rogue leaned against the window, reveling in the coolness on her face and the chance to close her eyes. Upon arrival at the Mansion garage and the exit of the other kids sans Kurt, Kitty asked again.

"You sure you're okay? You don't look well."

"Just need some more aspirin and a nap, that's all," Rogue sighed, getting out of the car and shuffling to the side entrance. She ignored everyone in her path as she marched up to her room. Throwing her bag down, she opened another bottle of aspirin, chugged a few, and collapsed on her bed, heaving a sigh of relief. She was in bed, finally. Whatever she had to do that day, it was purely whatever. Nothing mattered. Just closing her eyes and being able to let go was all that mattered. Whatever else… didn't…

* * *

Kitty sighed, watching her friend trudge off into the Mansion.

"I swear she's going to OD on those pills," Kurt commented.

"I tried taking her to Hank for some better, stronger ones, but you know how she's is." She closed the door to the driver side and went to the back to pick up her backpack. About to leave, she doubled back to look curiously at Kurt

"Did Herr Logan get a new bike?" Kurt noticed.

Kitty's eyes shifted over to the rest of the garage. Since when was there more than one suped-up motorcycle? She walked over, analyzing the bike. "I don't think so…" Regardless, she's be careful not to touch. "Don't know why he'd even need two."

And it clicked. Her eyes widened and she squealed.

"What? What is it?" Kurt asked, alarmed.

Kitty turned around and grabbed him by the shoulders, squealing again. "Omigosh, Kurt!"

"What?"

"What I'm about to tell you, you can't tell _anyone_!"

"What happened?"

"It's Gambit's bike!"

"WHAT?"

She smacked her hand on his mouth. "Shut _up!_"

"It's Gambit's?" he cried out, muffled through her hand. She smacked the side of his head with her other hand. He winced.

"Would you stop and just listen?"

He rubbed the side of his head. "Didn't have to hit me…"

"Oh hush, this is totally awesome!"

"No it's not!"

She hit him again.

"Would you just listen?"

He pouted and glared.

"He was the reason Rogue's in trouble!"

He was about to open his mouth again, and flinched when she raised her hand menacingly.

"He took her out to a bar last weekend! And then he came by looking for her the morning after! Isn't it sweet! He's come to join because of her!"

Kurt continued to glare.

Kitty sighed exasperatedly. "You can say something now!"

"Why do you know this? And it's not sweet!"

"Because," she grinned sneakily. "He came to my room accidentally the morning after."

"I'm going to kill him!" Kurt growled, taking stance to port.

She yanked his tail. Hard. He yelped. "Oh no you're not, blue boy!"

"Stop hurting me!"

"You listen here, furball. You will NOT, under any circumstances, try to intimidate him off!

"Fine then! I'll just port him off a cliff!"

"Rogue would _not_ find that humorous," Kitty deadpanned dangerously.

And he gulped. Kurt was horribly glad Rogue wasn't around to hear that- it was tasteless of him, really, and contrary to what just flew out of his mouth, he enjoyed life.

Kitty continued her dark glaring. "You do anything but be your funny, nice, fuzzy, blue self to him and I'll let Pyro know who keeps draining his lighters."

Kitty watched as Kurt's blue face paled several shades. Internally, she was doing a happy dance. She was getting _good_ at blackmailing.

After she saw the threat was sinking in, she grinned cheekily at his sudden shocked state and patted his cheek. "Stick to blue. Red totally isn't your color." Grabbing his arm, she started marching away purposefully. "Come on, fuzzy dude, it's time to play welcoming committee!"

He groaned as he was phased through the Institute. "But Kitty…"

"I can't heaaaaar you," she sang happily, marching up the stairs.

* * *

He could tell when the Institute came home- the windows shook from the slamming doors and the entire floor shook with their ascent up the stairs. He was glad he had made it indoors before the throng of students saw him, stared, and started rumors. Not that he was scared- not the infamous Remy LeBeau. It would just be a hassle to maneuver around everyone.

After his impromptu visit with Rogue (which was conveniently at her lunchtime and also conveniently on the way to the Institute, he justified) he had strolled right in with his own pass-code and spot in the garage and made himself at home. Granted, there wasn't much he had to make himself at home with materialistically.

Security features, on the other hand, took a bit of time. Getting the right locks on the doors, setting traps to his more personal items… Hell, even re-arranging the furniture for the best "run out of bed and kick some ass" placement took time. The furniture was durable. The Professor didn't fuck around in the furniture department.

He finished around the time he heard the first wave of students come in. From what he was told, it was the high school student throng. The next wave would be the younger middle school kids, chaperoned by Logan himself. He may have heard a fleeting comment about the university attending students going and coming back at odd hours. Vaguely, he remembered that this would include the two oldest, most prudish members. He wondered if school life applied to Colossus as well, seeing as he wasn't high school age appropriate.

(Hell, he didn't even bother assuming anything productive or worthwhile of St. John. For all he knew, the crazy s.o.b. was probably talking to squirrels and stealing their nuts and setting them on fire in some park hours away as to not attract attention to Bayville and subsequently, the Institute.)

Taking a final survey of his room, he noted the things he'd have to buy if he stayed long term. The amenities provided were very agreeable. Granted he had stayed at better places before (five star hotels, condos for long term assignments- he wasn't poor, that's for sure), but he had his own room, his own bathroom, and his own balcony. The room size itself wasn't bad either. It had his basics and had room for more. Most notably, he decided, he had room for a nice TV and mini-fridge to fill with his wonderfully junky food and alcohol. It was an exciting prospect.

In the meantime, he'd just have to steal Logan's adult amenities to tie him over. Stormy hadn't said anything against _that_ when she went over the general adult observed rules of the Mansion. Maybe she thought he was cautious enough to follow that unspoken rule anyways… Nah. She knew him better than that.

Regardless, he could do with more clothes and more of (what he liked to call) his sexy supplies. And cards. He had realized as he placed cards strategically around Rogue's room the previous day that he was dangerously low on his beloved weapons.

Remy took one last look around his room and nodded approvingly. Considering he had barely come in two hours ago, it was starting to feel less like the impersonal hotel room he had spent the last month in. Flopping back on his bed, he decided he'd rather not leave his room just yet. He wasn't sure if his presence was announced yet.

And as he prepared to lounge comfortably, he heard an insistent knock at the door (and then the sound of something hitting clothes). As he wasn't familiar with the mannerisms of his new teammates, he was curious.

"Come in," he called out lazily.

He wasn't prepared for the ferocity in which the door swung open and the ensuing loud shriek that emanated from Kitty. How could someone so small be so loud?

"Yes, I was _right!_" She pumped her hand in the air as she shrieked. Kurt behind her, just rubbed his head and groaned. Remy vaguely wondered what was it about his charming Cajun personality that made guys groan (and not in the good way).

"Well, hello to you too, _chat_," he smirked. Kitty clapped her hands excitedly while Kurt glowered in the back.

"I _knew_ it was only a matter of time before you came!"

Okay, seriously? How had he lost his unpredictability?

"Stop sounding so excited," he heard Kurt glumly mutter. _Someone _wasn't happy Remy was here- and he had a feeling he knew why. Kitty turned around and raised her hand quickly again. Kurt flinched.

"Good to know who wears the pants in this relationship," Remy noted, amused. Kurt sent him a reserved glare.

"Yep! And _speaking _of relationships, does _Rogue_ know you're here?" Kitty smiled deviously.

And if it didn't already occur to him when he accidently/foolishly went into Kitty's room the other day (which it _did_ occur to him, painfully), it was so obvious now. Kitty was on Team Romance. He internally groaned. This had _not _ factored into his decision to come here. Time to nip it in the bud- quick.

He shrugged leisurely. "Dunno. Don't talk to her much."

It was as if he popped a balloon- her face fell quick. Kurt, on the other hand, was relieved if not appeased.

"So what can Remy do for you this fine day, _Chat_? _Bleu?_"

"We're your welcoming committee!"

Kurt and Remy winced. She was far too energetic for just having got out of school.

Remy quickly recovered and smirked. "Oh yeah? And what does this welcoming committee _do?_" he wagged his eyebrows suggestively.

And he was near astounded. His charm just rolled right off of her as she grinned innocently. It was this moment at which he realized how _loyal_ these people were to Rogue. And Kitty, playing the role of best friend, could be the most dangerous of all if there was anything that hurt Rogue. Not the guys, who could (try to) inflict bodily harm, but the blackmailer. _The schemer_.

If he wasn't him, he would have shuddered visibly.

"We get to take you down to the sub-levels!"

"Hmm?" This was better than whatever he had in mind for a welcoming committee.

"What!" Kurt exclaimed.

"Yep!" Kitty announced proudly. "The Professor told us it was our job to get him downstairs to meet Hank and the Danger Room since he's a member now."

Remy swung off his bed, ready to appease his curiosity. "Alright, _chat_, lead the way."

* * *

She felt shaking. Shaking and a voice. Urgent voice?

'No, just let me be…' she protested, groaning out loud.

The voice continued. The shaking continued.

'No, please…' she groaned.

It would not stop.

She feebly slit her eyes open. Kitty. That voice, those shakes. Well, crap, it must be dinner time.

"Come on," she felt Kitty tugging on her arm.

"Wha?" She had sleep in her eyes and a scowl on her face.

"… dinner… Professor… new…" Kitty's mouth was moving excitedly, she beamed mischievously. Her eyes moved suggestively. Kurt was now beside her, talking. She couldn't catch anything.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll be down there inna minute," she shook them off and murmured. They were gone. She sat there, rubbing her head, rubbing her eyes.

Sitting on the edge of her bed, she regained her bearings. As long as her nap was, she was just as tired as before. And her head hurt all the same. The last vestiges of her dream/memory were fading fast- and she didn't mind either. Sighing and stumbling to her feet, she passed by the mirror to make sure her face was still on her face and not on her pillowcase and her hair didn't suggest the sex she could never have. Staggering out the door, she snapped her gloves into place and straightened her shirt and pants. Dinner was just a breeding ground for accidents.

Slipping into her normal seat at the edge of the long table, she noted an extra seat at the very end of the table near Kitty, Kurt, and Piotr. How curious. Her emergence was hardly noted by anyone else, except an appraising look by Logan; the students were louder and more animated than usual. She wondered why they were so worked up tonight.

Rogue focused on the whispers between Kitty and Kurt and narrowed their eyes. Should she consider this unusual? Kitty would have let her in onto whatever juicy gossip she had, regardless if Rogue wanted to hear it or not. Suddenly, the dining room quieted quickly. Rogue stopped fiddling with her fork and looked up.

"Attention, everyone, please," the professor began the moment she was settled. Kitty and Kurt were shooting Rogue looks and trying so very hard not to smile.

"As you all are reminded of on a daily basis, we all are unique. We all have come from various places and all have journeyed through many different paths. Throughout these paths, we all have made decisions, both good and bad, and in the spirit of camaraderie, we have been able to look past and forward to start new relationships. In such a world as ours, acceptance is something not found everywhere and by far not in plenty. While we have struggled as a team with rivalries and friendships, I know that my X-men, with their assortment of struggles and pasts, can extend acceptance to someone not too unlike themselves… even in the presence of past misgivings," his eyes glanced over the team, and lingered over Rogue's wearied face.

Kitty's eyes slyly slid towards Rogue across the table as well.

"And now, my X-men, as you have extended such welcomes to past and current teammates, I ask once more you extend your welcome to a former opponent, regardless of any past … opinions or incidents that have occurred," his eyes trailed over towards Logan and Scott. Logan scoffed silently; Scott looked more resolved in keeping down his food than ever.

Rogue narrowed her eyes. What other ragtag 'enemy' would…

"If you would please join us, Remy," Professor wheeled back and called out to the French doors behind him.

Rogue's heart stuttered and she struggled for breath. No…

The double French doors opened. His red eyes glowed from beyond the dark shadows of his silhouette. He walked into the dining room, the light slowly revealing his figure.

"_Bonsoir, mes amis,_" he gave his devilish smirk.

There was no introduction needed. Either they knew him, had fought with him or against him, or they had heard through the teenage grapevine of the mythical, gorgeous, devil-eyed mutant named Gambit who had kidnapped/accompanied the resident Goth on a joyride down south.

Gone was his spandex battle uniform everyone was so accustomed to seeing him in. He looked no more threatening in his normal clothes than Scott, except he could win Scott in a sexy battle with just a trash bag on. He wore his trademark trench and lost his head piece, letting loose his shaggy, sexy auburn hair. Instead, he wore a plain, wonderfully tight fitting black shirt and plain, wonderfully fitting jeans with wonderfully manly boots.

And the room was quiet. The facial expressions ranged from awed to wary, to reserved and amused. Kitty and Kurt's faces were amused and plotting. And Rogue?

Wouldn't let any betraying emotion cross her face. It was easy. She stared blankly, near completely consumed by the vocal internal reactions of everyone present in her head. She commanded her heart to beat normally and her face to not flush with emotion. But really, when did her body ever listen to her?

"Remy has decided to be a part of the team and I hope you all welcome him as such."

The room was quiet in contemplation and awe.

"Well, I'll be," John started, slightly aghast and awed. "If it wasn't a party here before, it bloody is now. Good to have ya back, mate!" He cackled.

And the room exploded from the pent up noise.

The professor motioned to a chair with an amused smile. "Please, Remy, make yourself at home."

Remy smiled and obliged with a nod. "_Merci, Professeur."_

Girls tittered and admired and gaped and plainly checked him out as he walked by. Rogue could even hear Tabitha reply, "Oh, no, thank _you_, hot stuff." He winked at the blonde as he walked by.

It became clear to Rogue that he was nearing the only empty seat across from her. The noise quieted again. Everyone was watching the possible violent outbreak that would ensue, Kitty more excited and glowing with anticipation than anyone else. Psyche Kitty was explaining what every possible reaction from Rogue and Remy could mean. It was rather annoying.

He grabbed the back of a chair across from her seat and next to Kitty. He smiled at Kitty (a knowing smile maybe?) and she grinned back. He sat down and finally looked at Rogue so squarely in the eyes it burned.

"Well, well, fancy meetin' you here, _chére,_" he drawled lazily, feigning surprise.

She just rolled her eyes and snorted.

"I take it _this_ is what you were so damn giddy about earlier?" she deadpanned, clearly not amused.

The room was dead quiet now.

"_Oui, _care to celebrate _avec moi ce soir?"_ He raised his eyebrows suggestively. Every teen who had heard Lady Marmalade at least once in their life knew what he was suggesting.

"I think I've celebrated with you enough to last a lifetime," she retorted dryly, stabbing something green onto her plate. She swore she heard Logan chuckle from down the table.

"_Donc, un autre temps,"_ he smiled a secretive smile.

"I'm curious as to how long you can hold your breath, so _ouais__- un autre temps,_" she smiled a saccharine smile. Even Scott cracked a smile.

And the Kitty's were positively glowing.

Rogue's dangerous smile was taken as the safe cue to continue the dinner festivities. Food was passed around the table, plates were filled, drinks were spilt, and Remy was talked about, beginning to end. The students in the middle of the table eavesdropped on the idle conversations Remy had with those around him in order to learn more about him and recited and replicated down the table possible facts and rumors surrounding the mystery man.

Rogue idly picked at her plate, trying not to burst on the outside. What the hell was he _doing here?_ She couldn't even count on a straight answer if she asked him outright. And who knows what kind of flood gate for sexual innuendos she would be opening if she even started a conversation with him. So she was stuck on eavesdropping as well. She nibbled, biding her time until someone else left first so she wouldn't look anorexic leaving first. Much to her surprise, her friends involved him in a conversation much throughout the dinner, and much to her chagrin, she caught herself listening to every word that was said.

"I'll tell ya, mate, we thought them gator's finally got the best of ya!" John laughed.

"Da, we thought you were trapped in the swamps again," Piotr commented offhand.

Gambit threw his friends a lazy smile.

"Aw, _mes amis_, you know this Gambit has lady luck on his side. Just took some time to tie up loose ends, is all," he suavely reassured them.

Something broke through her fog in a sharp reaction to what he said. Her ears perked up and her eyes almost did too.

"So, like, you never mentioned what you'll be doing here," Kitty asked innocently, and then stuffed her vegetarian face with some green things.

And it finally occurred to her that _everyone_ knew that he was here. Everyone except for Rogue. That's what the excitement and hush-hush was earlier. And considering Kurt _and_ Logan hadn't lunged for him…

She narrowed her eyes. What the hell kind of game was he playing? And why the hell was he just so _welcomed_ here, like he had just returned from a vacation?

"Security," he replied simply, taking a bite from his plate. Rogue rolled her eyes.

"So I take it you're, like, not going to Bayville High with us," Kitty implored.

"No, _Chaton_, Remy's already… graduated," he paused.

"So, how old _are_ you then?" she inquired back guiltlessly.

"Twenty-three," he replied.

"Ah," she nodded, knowingly. "That's good to know." Kitty smiled knowingly at Remy and quickly sneaked a look at Rogue. Rogue willed her cheeks to not blush; she knew that question was just for her benefit and Kitty really didn't care what Remy's age was (and hell, for that matter, none of the girls probably cared what his age was and he probably didn't care about the ages of any of the girls). She also knew Remy didn't need to ask back; she was pretty damn sure he had all of their stats memorized from his time as an Acolyte.

"And you?" he asked back, amused.

"Sixteen," she replied happily.

"Kurt?" he asked, his eyes shifting across the table. Rogue knew where this was going, and she was pretty sure everyone else did too.

"Seventeen," Kurt replied somewhat reluctantly, his mouth stuffed.

Remy smiled and shifted his eyes left to Rogue and smirked.

"_Et toi, chére?_"

She looked up passively and replied coolly, "A proper woman doesn't reveal her age."

He leaned back in his chair and put his hand to his wonderfully sculpted goatee and looked pensively at her for a moment. "Seventeen?" he finally asked, looking over to Kitty for approval.

Kitty the traitor nodded, swallowing her food. "Almost eighteen," she blurted out too, mouth half full of something green.

"Ah," he nodded, appreciatively. "That's good to know."

Rogue shot Kitty a look, one that plainly said 'if I had lasers shootin' from my eyes, I would meld your lips together forever.' Kitty gave Rogue an unapologetic shrug back. 'Well, he asked! And you so called me an improper woman!' was Psyche Kitty's corresponding response.

And from that, Rogue had this sinking, horrible feeling Kitty had already not only befriended Remy, but was going to try and play matchmaker. And she internally groaned. She glared and shook her head slowly at Kitty. Kitty just nodded with a satisfied smile. 'It's going to happen,' her psyche interrupted matter-of-factly. External Rogue smacked her head in her hand in near defeat.

"Headache still?" Kurt asked, concerned.

She glared at Kitty and Remy. "As a matter of fact, yes. Two, actually."

Considering what little she told Kitty about the annoying Cajun, she _should _have expected Kitty to welcome him into the team willingly. Kitty was pretty friendly to all recruits, but had a better link to this one. Rogue wondered wryly if Kitty pulled the "welcoming committee" gig again. She realized that she needed to squash whatever ideas Kitty had 5 minutes ago. Because that was Kitty the Romantic: playing at little, insignificant signs of 'affection' and exploding them into so. Much. More.

But she sure as hell didn't expect Kurt to be so calm about it. Granted, she didn't see Kurt the Caring, Well-Wishing Friend that followed Kitty's initiative, but she didn't see Kurt the Overprotective Brother that was present during her rescue mission either. In fact, she'd have to say Kurt wasn't acting like himself. He was slightly reserved, only somewhat of his joker self. And she could have sworn she saw him muttering something under his breath every once in a while. And did Kitty keep hitting him?

Regardless, this was not how she would have ever envisioned the meeting between Remy and her family so calm. Her eyes drifted down towards Logan. Neutral. Calm. Not out for Cajun blood.

'Gah!' she mentally screamed. 'Traitors! All of them!'

And she was annoyed. She could deal with the Cajun being here (avoiding and ignoring like she did the Super Couple now) but she couldn't deal with the ensuing snowball effect of both real life Kitty and the voices in her head. Her headache expanded to the back of her eyes now, causing her to see spots.

'Fuck this,' she thought, wiping her lips calmly with the napkin on her lap. Kitty gave her a warning look, looking pointedly at Rogue's plate with her eyes, commanding her silently (and mentally) to eat more. Rogue rolled her eyes, gathered her plates, and excused herself from the table.

* * *

Ahh! Another chapter so soon! Didn't think I could do it, but I did. I hope you enjoyed and enjoyed enough to review (hint hint). This chapter and the last were supposed to be the next chapter to Tormented Sanity before I decided to start over. Now, we get to even more fun stuff, because they're now living under the same roof and that in itself is fun. So thank you to my reviewers and my alerters! Stay classy.


	9. It's Called 'Catch the Cajun'

**Title: **The Wreckage

**Disclaimer: **I don't even own the rights to my soon to be college degrees and will not for many, many, many years… It's called a starving student, and by the state of my fridge, I'm living the dream.

**Pairing:** Rogue and Remy

**Rating: **Teen/Mature

**Warnings:** Contains dark and adult themes

**Summary: **It's what happens when two sides collide. The explosion between what you want and what you need, what's right and what's wrong. It's the wreckage. And it could be so easy. ROMY.

**The Wreckage**

**Chapter Nine**

**It's Called 'Catch the Cajun'**

The next morning, Rogue had to give her teammates some credit (but not a lot). Sure, she could see mild distaste in Scott and Logan (and sometimes Kurt), definitely. The X-Men were always pretty open and friendly to new faces for the most part, even if they did tend to get more righteous and holier-than-thou when approached by a member of "the other side". But when they first arrived, Piotr got an instant stamp of approval thanks to Kitty and St. John… was eventually accepted as an eccentric crazy and not criminally insane.

But the reception Remy was currently getting as they waited for the DR session was just obnoxiously ridiculous. He was surrounded by a flock of girls, Kitty included. The guys glanced over to him every once in a while, some with jealousy, but most with admiration. Hell, even she watched him from the corner of her eye and across the room (discreetly, of course).

So there he was, leaning against the wall suavely, with his tight uniform and heavy boots and card shuffling and utility belt, smirking that obnoxious smirk of his at every one of those fawning girls, reveling in the attention like he was a god instead of a devil. No shame at all, considering they were all underage. Tabitha seemed to take advantage of that fact and used any opportunity to touch him. Not that he minded in the slightest.

Rogue shook her head at the floor. Not that she spent her time thinking about "what ifs", but in the "what if Remy joined the world famous X-Men" scenario, his reception hardly played out as this smooth.

The doors opened and out emerged Logan, with a rather… sadistic smirk.

"Alright, everybody shut up," he began with a satisfied smirk. The room quieted. Eerily. She cast a cursory glance around the room. Jean, who was faithfully next to Scott and not Gambit, was oddly fixated on the floor, with a weird expression on her face.

"Thanks to our newest member," he yanked his head towards Gambit, "we're uneven in numbers, so no sparrin' today."

A few of the younger kids let out some noises of joy. Jean brought up her hand to her mouth to refrain from laughing. What was so entertaining?

"Instead, to welcome Gambit, we'll be playin' a game." His voice got suspiciously low and threatening.

Regardless, pretty much everyone let out some happy sound.

"What game?" someone called out.

Logan looked squarely at Gambit.

"It's called 'Catch the Cajun'."

Rogue laughed out loud with Jean. The rest of the kids murmured in surprise. Gambit? His smirk just grew into a grin, even though his face slightly paled. This could either be a very fun game, or a very dangerous one.

"Rules," Logan started before the ruckus took on a life of its own. "He brings you down, you're out. You bring him down, he's out. Winner gets tomorrow off DR. Any questions?"

"Powers or no powers?"

"Just bring him back breathin'." Already the schemes were reeling to bring down the new member.

The door to the danger room opened and Logan eyed the Cajun with an evil chuckle. "Ya gotta 30 second head start. It started 5 seconds ago."

Gambit shot the group a wild smirk. "_Laissez le bon temps rouler,"_ was his parting response as untangled himself from his entourage and saluted, blending quickly into the Danger Room shadows.

"Can we keep him if we catch him?" Rogue heard Tabitha murmur to the other girls, all of them watching him swagger off.

Rogue rolled her eyes, but let a satisfied smirk grace her features this time. This had to be Logan's fatherly payback for all Gambit's stupid stunts regarding her lately. And honestly, she could appreciate the passive-aggressive protectiveness of it all. _This_ was what she wanted and expected from her teammates- an outward yet subtle sign of revenge. She shouldn't have been so surprised it was Logan who finally delivered, but she was flattered regardless.

Logan looked up from his wrist watch and smirked. "Spread out, watch yerr asses, and good luck."

The kids ran out, eager to prove themselves to each other and to impress Gambit. Rogue shook her head. _Surely_ they would have heard some stories regarding his Acolyte days or how he managed to narrowly escape death by Wolverine's hand. Surely they didn't think he could be taken so easily or even found for that matter, did they?

As she was leaving last behind the throng of running, overexcited children and the regally scheming older X-Men, she felt a strong hand clamp onto her shoulder and pull her back.

"Wait."

She turned and faced Logan with an equally devious smirk. Oh yes, she could definitely appreciate this.

* * *

He let out an exasperated sigh. Not only had he lost his unpredictability, but was he losing his reputation too? These kids _had_ to have known he was an "acquirer" of sorts. They must have heard he was the one that _kidnapped_ The Rogue, had _stolen_ the key to Apocalypse from under the Worthington's nose, had _kicked_ the entire Brotherhood's asses without breaking a sweat, etc.

Did they honestly think they could sneak attack him? These kids were so damn loud, he was having trouble not just going out into the open and telling them to shut the fuck up. It was a shame really. Considering his job was security, he felt this _especially_ fell under his jurisdiction. How could any group of superheroes go about their secret superhero business being as loud as that?

Regardless, he knew the secret to making it out as the victor was due to his training as a thief, the training that taught him stealth and silence, the necessary abilities to perfect the art of sneak attacks. This was his code of life, what he had been brought up on as a thief and as Magneto's fetch boy. And he knew it would be no different here. Granted, he had already taken out most of the group effortlessly, but there were a few older students he still hadn't seen or heard of, and now he knew he had to watch his ass.

Take the wafting smell of brimstone floating through the air as an example. He remembered that was the calling card for "that Nightcrawler fool" he had so dubbed once upon a time. He remembered watching him in battle- the kid just popped up behind someone and took him out, usually by hugging or something weird like that.

"Not today, kid," he murmured, smelling brimstone faintly closer to him. And if he got the timing right, remembering how his porting pattern was and the time interval between each, one nicely aimed card would produce…

A Nightcrawler being flung back with the explosion of the card, rolling back and hitting a far crate.

"Well that didn't go as planned," he muttered, obviously defeated, standing up on his haunches and rubbing his head. "Give some warning before you go around exploding a guy mid-port, sheesh," he muttered darkly to Gambit as he ported out.

He did a rough mental tally of who would be left. Not many; this should be over soon, he hoped. It was early- he was usually coming home at this time, half awake.

Off the top of his head, he hoped he was just done with the "newer" X-Men. It hadn't taken much to take them out as they had yet to learn the art of… well, the art of _anything_. He hadn't defeated all of the senior X-Men, he knew that for sure.

And as he was pondering this, he felt the annoying, probing, telepathic fingers of a spook. The red head. He made a face and groaned. Spooks weren't his favorite mutants to deal with, by far.

And he had to chuckle, because knowing Jean was nearby meant that the fearless leader was with her, her knight in shining armor, her protector, her foolish boyfriend. It would be a 2 for 1 deal and he knew exactly how to bring them down.

Hearing their quick approach, he slid behind some crates (really? Crates? They had only done that "warehouse attack" thing one time, and Wolverine based training sessions on it? Talk about unoriginal.) and waited until they got closer.

"I swear he was just around here..." he heard the pretty red head say.

Gambit could almost hear Cyclops' mouth set into a grim line. "We'll find him. And then we'll show him what being an X-Men's really about."

Gambit had to roll his eyes at that. He wasn't sure what was worst: the fact that they refused to be separated for as long as an hour or the fact they were so caught up in the X-Men glory.

No matter though, he reminded himself cheerfully as he flung a charged card at their feet. They both dove away, Jean's shield flying up as an afterthought.

"So what's this 'bout bein' an X-Men? Sounds interestin'." He queried lazily. He enjoyed watching the grim, angry line form on Scott's face.

Gambit saw the slight look the couple gave each other and narrowed his eyes. Figures the high school sweethearts would have worked on a "couples tag team" formation. He wondered idly as he dodged Cyclops' laser beams if tactical training was their version of sex.

As he watched Cyclops fire his lasers and Jean stop all of his cards, he realized just how almost sickeningly faultless their tactic was. Cyke was the offence; Jean was the defense (and occasional offence). How cute. Chances were they were attempting to tire him of all his cards and energy. Little did they know, he wasn't going to run out any time soon. He smirked at the two, knowing exactly how this was going to play out. How sad that their greatest strength in life was their greatest weakness in battle.

Tired of the three-person tango, he grabbed the nearest item (which, by golly, happened to be a small crate) and charged the hell out of it. He grinned cheekily as he tossed it their way and ducked behind other crates. He didn't even need to see Jean throw up her shield; it wasn't going to be much use to them anyways. He was impressed by how realistic the crate blew up and how it created the perfect cover to sneak around behind the couple.

Gambit watched from behind as Jean cleared the smoke from their area and Cyke surveyed the area, hand firmly on his visor. They weren't even watching their backs. This made his next move too easy.

"Find him?" Cyke asked grimly

"It's all static with him. It's like- hey!" Jean yelped as she was swung backwards by the arm and gripped forwards into the arms of the Cajun. He wasted no time in charging her clothes.

"Let her go!"

Gambit smirked and pressed her obviously closer to him. He rested his hands on her waist and arm. "I dunno, Cyke, I like her right where she is," he uttered in a low voice, capturing her gaze and smiled seductively. "And if I let her go, she might explode. We don't want that… do we, _chére_?"

He could see the confusion cloud her thoughts as his empathy soothed her to compliance. She shook her head slightly.

"What the hell are you doing to her?"

"Now you gotta choice, Cyke," he spoke to the team leader, ignoring his protests while keeping Jean's eyes entertained. "You can either accept your loss and back down or risk your _belle femme_ just so you can prove you're a real X-Men. Your choice."

And just as he predicted, the team leader stalled.

"Either way you lose, Cyke. You lose the game or you lose the girl." He slightly leaned down to Jean's neck. "You smell good, _chére_," he whispered lowly into her ear. He vaguely wondered if the telepath knew what he was doing/had done. "Think he should back down?" he asked loud enough for Cyke to hear.

She nodded slightly, her lips partially moving as she stared into his eyes.

Gambit grinned. "What's it gonna be?"

Cyclops reluctantly brought his hand down and stood up straighter, as if to atone for the loss of pride. "Fine. Uncharge her."

Gambit smirked. "Will do, but one more thing."

Cyclops didn't see the almost Quicksilver-esque speed of the charged card flying at his chest. He was thrown back as the card exploded in front of him.

"Bang, bang. You're dead."

Drawing the charge back in from Jean's clothes, he let his empathic hold on her shimmer away slowly. He saw the semblance of consciousness enter back into her eyes. She stepped away from him slowly, shaking her head as if to rid her of the fuzzy feelings he gave her. He grabbed her hand and kissed it gently, seductive eyes never leaving hers.

"Well played, _chére_. And for the record, you would have been dead if I let go, so let's just call it game, _hein?_"

She nodded slowly as she retracted her hands, still slightly dazzled by him. Walking over to Scott, she helped him walk away, almost zombie like.

Not to gloat prematurely, but he had to hand it to himself. Not only did he win this round, he got to flirt with the taken red-head _and_ piss off the team leader. Good times, had by all.

But he had more work to do! He put his game face back on and began to walk away.

And he turned around in time to see Shadowcat phase up from the ground and nearly wrap her hand around his leg. He groaned. That's what he got for loosing focus. These teleporting-phasing-weird powered mutants were just obnoxious and annoying in battle. He stepped back, narrowly avoiding her grasp, throwing a charged card in the wake of his foot. He had _no_ intention of realizing what it meant to walk through stuff.

"Hey!" she yelped, diving back into the floor to avoid the blast. She rose back up in the smoke, glaring at him, hands clenched to the side. "That was so not cool!" she complained, shaking her head. She took off sprinting towards him. He knew what her plan was. She was petite and in no way could she take him in a fight. Her powers were defensive and couldn't harm him in any way, unless she was to phase him into something. The she really would catch the Cajun. His only option was to scare her, make her think she was going to get hurt.

He kept moving away from her, from her grasping hands and took to distracting her with charged cards at her feet. She jumped around, still solid, and occasionally phased when a card got to close to her. A few successfully flew into her torso. She let out a yelp of surprise.

"Jeez, would you just like, stop that! It's super hot!"

He smiled; she still thought this was a game _and_ that she had a shot at winning. In his dodging dance of flying cards, he leaned over and grabbed a piece of blown up crate, charging it a humming vibrant pink. Her eyes widened. He wouldn't…

He backed up quickly and chucked it at her. She screeched, not wanting the hot "wood" to pass through her. She took a flying dodge, being pushed farther with the impact of the explosion.

She glared up at him and blew a bang out of her face.

"This Cajun thinks you're out," he grinned, extending his hand out to the girl.

"You suck," she accused, taking his hand begrudgingly. "That was totally an ass move. You could have killed me!"

"Hardly. That was a superficial charge. You should have just gone into the ground, instead of scream like a scardy cat," he advised.

"Ha ha, you're a riot," she responded scathingly over her shoulder at the typical pun. Not a sore loser, at all.

And he looked up at the control room, grinning satisfactorily at the observing Wolverine and crowd. He hadn't heard anyone else lurking noisily waiting for their turn. He was done. He was victorious! Looks like he had already earned himself a day off.

But… if he didn't know better, he could have sworn Wolverine was smirking back down at him.

And the grin faltered off his face. No way in hell that face was congratulatory- or even pissed for that matter. He did a quick mental count of everyone he had defeated. An odd number. And if his presence was supposed to tip the scales into an odd number, then that means he was missing at least one more person…which could explain Wolverine's gloating stare.

And Gambit snapped back into high alert, focusing every one of his senses on his surroundings. He couldn't hear the usual rustling of clothing or squeaking of shoes. He couldn't hear labored breathing or any tell tale sign of powers. There was no sound, just the faint pulsating beat of someone that just happened to be picked up on his empathic radar.

He narrowed his eyes, concentrating on the shadows of the warehouse. The very little presence on his empathy meant that the person couldn't be nearby, but was probably searching for him as he was him. It now came down to a cat and mouse game he wanted to finish quickly; after all, he had been here, working his ass off (kind of, more so for the last few X-Men), for more than an hour.

He walked around the simulated warehouse, stopping every few minutes to listen to prying eyes, to try and follow the faint lingering aroma of emotion. It twisted and turned, turning around in circles sometimes. And if he didn't already have his senses as open as he could, every so often he could feel the prying eyes on his back and would turn to meet it with a questioning invitation. But nothing.

He couldn't figure out who his opponent was. Another telepath maybe? But he could have sworn he took out the resident telepath. Was there someone new he hadn't noticed yet? He wracked his memory, cursing himself for not staking out the inhabitants further as well. He stopped in the middle of an open area, tall cartons and crates surrounding him. Maybe if he stayed in one place, his next opponent would come to Gambit… He scoured the shadows, slowly taking the paths leading around to his little area. He heard nothing, but felt the same lack of emotional presence, keeping a constant radius from him.

He stopped back at the center of the warehouse. Strange. There was no longer an ebb and flow on his radar… if they were keeping the same distance, it couldn't have been by coincidence. It could possibly mean they had already sought Gambit out and was making him the mouse of the situation, and were currently getting ready for the kill. Which meant this person knew how to play the game, was possibly even dangerous, and if he was anywhere near as skilled Gambit…

This could be fun.

Gambit reached towards his utility belt, slowly sliding out the top card. He held it up to the level of his eyes and charged it. He could feel the anticipation building. Maybe it was his anticipation; maybe it was the mystery player.

And he felt the prying eyes at his back again. His anticipation spiked and he let go. He flicked the card towards the crates directly behind him and watched them go up in an explosion of metal, wood and dust. He looked through the dust, slowly walking forward. Nothing could have walked away from that unscathed, he was positive. He heard no movement and, for a moment, celebrated with a congratulatory smirk.

And then he finally heard it. The rush of wind following the dead silent sprint of a sneak attack. And it was… behind him?

He turned. Just in time to see Rogue take a flying roundabout to his face. He dodged his head back, barely saving his majestic face, saving his balance in time to see her drop to the floor with sexy cat-like grace, and kick his feet out from underneath him.

He flew back, narrowly saving himself with a back rollover, landing crouched, ready to rush her.

But she was gone again.

He chuckled out loud. _She_ was stalking _him!_

"Was wonderin' when you were gonna show up,_ cherie_," he lied and internally let out a string of curse words. He had completely forgotten about her. And did he feel stupid. He should have realized earlier that this exercise had multiple explanations: teaching these kids a valuable lesson in shutting up, and quite possibly, Wolverine's pent up anger with him, letting Rogue finally take a fair shot at him. The latter he wasn't sure was her idea or Wolverine's, but he wouldn't be surprised at either.

"I guess Wolverine saved the best for last," he mused, trying to flatter her as he picked himself up off the floor. He grabbed another card, lighting it between his fingers. He looked around the clearing room, waiting for her to make a sound. As much as he admired her eagerness to fight, she couldn't be that good…

He heard the creaking of a crate and zipped the charged card in that direction. The crate exploded.

And above the smoke and fire came Rogue, flying fast in a front flip, twisting and landing directly behind his crouched position. He whipped around, ready to protect and block himself from surely another facial assault. She grinned at him and immediately took off in a standing back handspring, flipping back multiple times, ending with a back tuck in perfect fighting stance. She reached behind her and pulled out a metal stick, pushing its button and extending it into half bo staff size, smirking him down the entire time.

"That's how you wanna play, _chére_?" He reached to his side to grab his.

And it wasn't there.

Damn.

He hadn't expected that.

She twirled the bo staff around expertly. "Let's dance, sugah," she purred.

"Lets." And he began flicking cards at her, only mildly charged, not wanting to hurt her too bad.

And she dodged them perfectly and cleanly, flipping the bo staff faster and faster to repel the exploding ones she couldn't escape from.

He grew frustrated. She seemed like she could take a hit, right? He began charging his cards a little more with each one. They kept ricocheting and hitting the crates around her. She slowly started advancing with each jump and flip, making sure to keep the bo staff rotating on his side.

"Tired yet? Looks like you're runnin' out of cards," she mocked.

"Got another pack, _chere_," he grinned.

She snorted. "You sure about that, Cajun?"

And he felt to the side of his utility belt, next to where his bo staff had been. Shit.

He stopped his throwing. She stopped her spinning, staring him down with a hard, almost expressionless face.

"Now, if I counted right," she started sweetly, "you're down to just a hand. Better check and make sure it's a lucky one."

And she began in a running, flipping streak towards him, bo staff still swinging with her side flips and jumps, hitting the ground with her handsprings. The cards would have to be saved. It was time to dance.

She finally got up to him, switching her jumping stance to a fighting one. She flicked the staff perpendicular to him. He only had a split second to respond, using his arm as a blocker as she started flicking the bo staff around and around, aiming for his head and under his chin. She started with hard blows, then eased up, deciding to take a quicker, more unpredictable approach.

She dropped down low, swinging the staff behind her back and using her outstretched leg to try and knock him down again. He jumped quickly as she stood up again, staff swinging in front of her.

He caught her swinging bo staff by her miscalculation. She landed and pulled the staff, yanking Gambit closer to her. She caught his torso in a quick side kick. He yanked the staff back, flipping her around so she had her back to him and pressing the staff against her neck.

"Time to end this, _hein_?" he crooned in her ear, the staff against her neck growing pinker and pinker.

"Will do," she purred, phasing the charged bo staff out of his hands (which did in fact feel weird and was _exactly_ what he was trying avoid earlier) and letting it drop to their feet with a hard clink. She propelled herself into a flying handspring and phased back into the protection of the crates. She heard him curse and hit the ground just as the metal exploded, sending debris and dust everywhere.

"Aw, _chére_, that was my favorite staff!"

She grinned. She had called his bluff like Cyclops and Jean couldn't; she knew he would never charge it enough to harm either one of them now that they were on the same team. And she also knew he couldn't see through the smoke haze he had created for himself- which was fine by her. She was happy to use his earlier, dirty tactic against him.

Spying from the entrance of the crate, she vaguely saw the reds of his eyes. He was emerging out of the smoke cloud, eyes rapidly scanning the surrounding openings, just as she started running in. He couldn't see her in plain sight and now was her chance to end this. She caught a crate wall and flipped off, landing on another crate, and jumped off again. If she got the timing right…

He grunted as her thighs landed squarely on his shoulder. She locked her ankles and flipped herself around to face him, legs gripping his neck with an iron grip, grasping his head for the cover of his hair, keeping her fingers near his cheeks and her nose only a millimeter from his.

"Well, wouldja look at that," she crooned softly. "Seems like I caught myself a Cajun."

He smirked against her sweet minty breath. She felt his hands move from her waist, slowly down… she narrowed her eyes.

"Logan said breathin'- didn't say anything about conscious, Cajun," she threatened. "Now you gotta choice. You can admit defeat the easy way or the hard way," she mocked him.

"Decisions, decisions," he murmured, his hands firmly on her waist.

What an ass. She smirked back, licking her lips.

"Try it and I'll know every single thing you've done since I last saw you," she whispered, drawing her lips just a hair's width away from his.

And his smirk froze.

Now was not the time for _that_ to happen.

"_Touché_, _chére_, _touché_," he admitted softly after a moment. "You caught this Cajun." He took his hands off her waist with a hard pride-sucking-up kind of smirk.

Rogue felt as though she should be proud of herself because _technically, _it was official-her hard work had completely paid off. She got him back, made him look like an idiot and probably made him feel like it too. If she was rich, she'd bet money on the fact he didn't see her as being aptly prepared. She'd also bet money that he didn't go all out on her like she would have hoped. It hardened her expression quickly.

She gripped his shoulders, swinging her legs off his shoulders, down, and back up in the air as if he was a gymnast's horse. She took a brief handstand on his shoulders and flipped off, twisting gracefully in the air as she landed softly.

Remy let out a low whistle and shook his head. He never remembered being a gymnast as part of her profile.

As if signaling the end of the session, the room reverted back to it's hallow dome form. She saw Logan's gruff nod as the observation deck lights were cut out. Everyone was in the War Room now.

Rogue turned around and kept her face as neutral as possible as she walked up to him and handed him back his cards and picked up her discarded gloves, snapping them back into place. She was thoroughly annoyed with the way he smirked at her, among other things.

"Y'know," she started disinterestedly. "I never got to thank you for sellin' me out to Kitty." Quickly balling up her fist, she slammed it into the side of his face. His face snapped to the side, but not much. His smirk grew as he rubbed his face tenderly and she glared at him hotly.

"No thanks necessary next time, _chére_."

"And for the record, you owe me a rematch. I don't like half-assed fights." With that, she spun on her heel back towards the automatic doors. Gambit followed, making sure to stay not-too-close behind her.

The rest of the team was waiting anxiously in the conference room, all bouncing and shouting at them as they walked in. Gambit could only imagine that the fight was exhilarating and exciting from their point of view too.

Kitty near pounced on Rogue the minute she got in, singing praises of congratulations louder than everyone else. Kurt bounced up to Remy, oddly jovial to Remy for the first time since he had come, and slapped him on the back. "Tough break man, but she's unstoppable. No one besides Herr Logan has been able to beat her." Remy internally sighed. _This_ wasn't going to help his reputation any.

"Everybody, shut up," Logan spoke up. The room died down.

"It took less than an hour for one person to take you all out." The silence was now palpable. This wasn't a good debriefing already. "Care to explain?" He surveyed the room, expectantly. Most stared down at their hands.

"Popsicle." Iceman's eyes guiltily looked up. "Why were you out first?"

"Because it's like the guy's a freaking trained assassin," he tried to defend himself.

"Wrong. You were goofin' off. You didn't take this seriously and Gambit a serious opponent. You knew that, you were there in England."

His eyes fell on the senior X-Men and former Acolytes.

"You all knew about his abilities. What happened?"

Kitty and Kurt gave a side worried look to each other while Scott and Jean stayed stonily composed. Piotr sat up straighter and met Logan's accusatory gaze.

"Gambit has always been… proficient with one-on-one combat. His training has always made him a difficult opponent," he stuttered. Gambit smiled at the compliment. Logan did not.

His eyes fell on Gambit, who held himself with a bored expression fixated on the ground.

"Gambit." His eyes shifted up lazily.

"_Oui?_"

"Care to share with the class?"

Gambit exhaled and shifted his arms, glancing around the room. "Ya'll are too loud," he stated simply. "Can't surprise attack if you lack the element of surprise."

"I totally did surprise you and you almost killed me," he heard Kitty exclaim indignantly next to Rogue.

His eyebrows quirked at her statement and he zeroed in on her. "_Oui_, you did. But you were too scared to attack."

"Was not…" she muttered, looking angrily away.

"What the hell was almost killing Jean about?"

Ah, there it was. Remy had been waiting for that question for the entire debriefing. He faced Scott calmly. "Wasn't gonna kill her," he shrugged.

"Then what?" Scott challenged.

"Just cuz you spend your time with your girlfriend workin' out ways to be a super-couple doesn't mean it's gonna work in a real fight." He flipped the cards around in his hand lazily. "Don't get me wrong. This whole high school sweetheart superhero thing you got goin' on is cute for trainin', but it's also your Achilles heel."

Scott said nothing, only glared and gripped the table. It was subtle, but he saw Jean reach over to touch him.

"Just cuz it was a game didn't mean it was gonna be easy," he shrugged. Rogue scoffed from across the room. He knew it was a stupid, hypocritical thing to say- he did just take it easy on a girl he didn't think could take him down _and _she had called it out on him.

"Exactly," Logan agreed in his displeased, sarcastic voice. "And since you all took this exercise so lightly, we'll be working on the art of being quiet."

Logan's attention focused Gambit. "You. Out." He jerked his head towards the War Room exit.

Gambit lazily put his cards away and stood up. He stretched (for his own benefit, he swore) and saluted the rest of the group as he walked out. "Good game, _Monsieur_. Wouldn't mind playin' again." He whistled Dixie as he swaggered out.

Logan then zeroed in on Rogue. "You. Stay."

He looked at the remaining kids. "And the rest of you." He set a box on the table and shoved it towards the middle. The rest of the group peered in and grabbed its contents. In no time, the entire room was filled with bells on strings ringing.

"Uh, Mr. Logan? What are these for?" Kitty asked.

"Tie 'em round your ankles and get ready." His head yanked towards the Danger Room entrance.

The groans could be heard a mile away. Rogue smirked and leaned over to Kitty. "Wish you took some extra session with me now, dontcha?" Kitty's only (highly mature) response was mocking Rogue's lip movements as she looped and tied the long string around her ankle.

The rest of the team trudged out as Rogue stayed leaning against the wall. Logan waited until the door was closed before he zeroed in her and gave her one of his brief side hugs. He wasn't smiling like an idiot, but Rogue could tell that he wanted to.

"Ya did great, kid," he congratulated. "All yer hard work paid off."

Rogue sighed, displeasure on her face. "He took it easy on me."

"Bet he won't ever again. Ya made him look like an idiot and knocked his ego down a few stories."

She finally gave him a half-smile. "He deserved it. All of it," she muttered darkly, not knowing or caring if Logan got the reference or not.

"Pretty much." He patted her shoulder approvingly as he walked away. Before entering the Danger Room, he called back. "Forgot to tell ya in training. Bend yer knees more when you need to surprise right hook someone. Gets ya more power."

She laughed. Sometimes, what happens in the Danger Room, stays in the Danger Room…

* * *

**AN: **Sorry for the wait. I've had most of this chapter done, I just needed to finish it. This was a fun chapter to write! I'm usually not much of a battle scene gal, but I think it turned out alright, ya? (Hint, tell me in a review :D) And for those die-hard Romy fans who are thinking that Rogue beating Remy is kind of out of character, know that in my story line, she's worked her ass off in training and Remy didn't expect that. But I hope you enjoyed the chapter! And I hope you review too! And thank you to my reviewers and alerters! I'm happy to see people are reading, even if they aren't reviewing. It makes my last 18 days of having senioritis magical.


	10. Sharin's For Pansies

**Title: **The Wreckage

**Disclaimer: **I don't even own the rights to my soon to be college degrees and will not for many, many, many years… It's called a starving student, and by the state of my fridge, I'm living the dream.

**Pairing:** Rogue and Remy

**Rating: **Teen/Mature

**Warnings:** Contains dark and adult themes

**Summary: **It's what happens when two sides collide. The explosion between what you want and what you need, what's right and what's wrong. It's the wreckage. And it could be so easy. ROMY.

* * *

**The Wreckage**

**Chapter Ten**

**Sharin's For Pansies**

* * *

All in all, Remy LeBeau couldn't complain about his current circumstances.

Sure, he still was banished from his hometown and could never speak to any of his family members ever again. And yeah, he wasn't exactly allowed to do any of his typical thieving because he was living at the Xavier Institute. He supposed that part was alright, considering that the prince of thieves was quite good at his trade and had amassed his own (impressive, he would even say) fortune.

But still, he couldn't complain.

Well, maybe he could. Was it _really_ necessary to have such early group training sessions? It wasn't that he had a set sleep schedule or anything- quite the opposite. Jean-Luc was adamant on demolishing any kind of normal human sleep schedule wee Remy was to have, claiming it would help him in later heists. Granted, it _did_ help in heists and other various… nocturnal activities. His mutation helped out tons too- the constant amount of energy buzzing around in his body tended to give him a life-energy boost too, which also helped with sleeping less and heists and… certain nocturnal activities.

But _still_. The time these damn training sessions started right as he'd be just _leaving_ the bar with a… nocturnal companion or two. It was kind of putting a cramp in his style.

But anways. Back to the positives.

He wasn't being hunted down, dead or alive. He had some great (free) food. He had a bed to sleep in and a safe (well, it would be safe when he was done fixing the _bajillion_ security issues the Institute seemed to have) house to sleep in. Coming from the streets, he was grateful for just this alone. Everything else was just the icing on his life-cake. The amenities were great and his work-outs took on a new level of fun he didn't think was possible. The girls were cute (despite off-limits, being minors and all) and fun to flirt with. When you combined both the girls and the workouts and (_Dieu)_ the uniforms, all in all, Remy was a very content man.

Content and happy and fairly relaxed. He was beginning to consider his time here a mini-vacation of sorts. He had his fair share of drama over the last few years and hell, he had enough money to retire himself and live comfortably for years and years. Would he though? Nah, he was still in the prime of life. He still had many things (and women) to do and see before he would put his lock-pick set away. Not to mention his powers would drive him insane if he wasn't constantly active. The pent up energy would make him explode if he wasn't doing _something_.

Stretching his arms, he began the walk out of the Danger Room dome. It was a good session, he had to say. Today's session had focused on one-on-one combat instead of teamwork, which was all good in his books. Team exercises weren't really his thing. He had kicked Scooter's ass fairly quickly and had moved on to a few other X-Men before time was called. It wasn't his typical strenuous workout, but hey- he _was_ on vacation.

And vacations meant indulging one self, right? And if that indulging moment involved underage girls with tight leather uniforms… well, let's just say one Remy LeBeau wasn't denying the attention hanging off his well sculpted arms.

"So, tell me, hot stuff," the blonde one squeezed herself closer. "Where _did _you learn to move like that?"

At one point in time, he had all of these girls' names memorized, but that was during his Magneto Era. Too many things had passed since then and trivial details like teenage girls names had escaped him. Wasn't this gifted blonde also gifted at exploding things or something?

"I work out a lot," he smirked. Not too boastful, not too modest.

"I can tell. Do you ever find yourself in need of a… work-out partner?" She waggled her eyebrows suggestively. If only she wasn't so young, he had to remind himself. Before he could artfully lead her on without leading her on, the girl on his other arm spoke up.

"Puh-leeze," she popped her gum. "Like _you_ would be a good work-out partner. You don't even _try_ during DR. You just throw your little pom-poms wherever."

The blonde one narrowed her eyes. "It's effective, unlike your _light show_."

He let the banter between these girls go on uninterrupted as he smirked to himself. He had plenty of time to let them down easy. For now, he was going to enjoy the attention as they perused the halls up to the dormitories. Taking the girl's fork of the upstairs dormitories- because he was a _gentleman_ and he wasn't a perv- he noticed further down the hall Kitty and Kurt at Rogue's door. A vague question started to arise, but was quickly stomped out as the two girls became increasingly loud.

"Well _maybe_ if you weren't such a ska-" the Asian girl began to point fingers in faces. It was time to intervene.

"Ladies, ladies, there's no reason to fight," insert sexy wink to one and a smoldering smile to the other. "There's plenty of Gambit to go around."

The blonde one trailed her finger down his chest and bit her lip. "I'll say," she murmured.

He picked up a hand from each girl and simultaneously kissed the back of it. "_Au revoir_," he hummed pleasantly, giving them his sexy salute as he walked back to his room. He smiled once he turned his back. All was quiet as they watched him leave. And then he'd turn the corner…

"Dibs."

"Hells to the no! He's _mine!_"

He chuckled, passing St. John's head hung low and hand held high. Remy gave him a high-five as St. John lamented.

"Every one, mate. Why do you get every one?"

He shrugged jovially as he entered his room. "I'm just that irresistible."

Taking a quick shower, he debated what he wanted to do that day. There was always finishing up security issues- to which Logan seemed to have a hard time relinquishing control over. And then there was…

Well, nothing. No heist, no planning for a heist, no family to keep him entertained. It was a hard life to give up, but it was his proverbial vacation. And what did normal people do on vacations?

They went out and drank and met women and partied, that's what they did. A smile cracked on his face as he remembered he had people to do that with now. Sure Piotr and St. John weren't always the ideal candidates to go with as they were definite polar opposite on the crazy scale, but he liked to think he even them out. A little wicked grin spread on his face. There were new rules to play by, but this could still be fun.

He found Piotr sitting quietly in a corner of the breakfast table with a cup of black coffee and the newspaper as the rest of the Mansion's inhabitants buzzed around him. He always forgot that the kids here went to something called _public_ _school_. It made him feel old, even though he had never had formal education to begin with.

"Where's St. John?" he asked, taking a seat next Piotr.

"He went back to sleep. He mentioned something about spending too much time with the… squirrels running around last night."

St. John always had something to do with chasing squirrels in his spare time. Remy and Piotr could never figure out if it was figurative or literal.

"Was gonna ask if you and him wanted to go out somewhere tonight."

"Out to where?"

Remy shrugged. "Visit some of the old haunts, find new ones. Just get outta here for a night."

Piotr considered this for a moment before shrugging. "I find that acceptable if only I can be designated driver."

Remy chuckled before slapping him on the back. "Would you have it any other way, _mon ami?_"

"It seems as though my comradescannot handle their vodka like a Russian can." Remy suspected Piotr was very proud of his ridiculously high tolerance. Power to him.

"Then it's settled. It'll be a fun night."

Then the blonde one saddled up next to him and gripped his arm, making sure to push her chest against him. Honestly, this girl was like gum on the bottom of his boot in the middle of a heist. "Oh yeah? What's on the agenda tonight, hot stuff?"

"It will be a _man's_ night out," Piotr answered quickly and stoically as he drained his coffee.

"Wow, even tall, dark, and handsome over here?"

"_Da_."

"I guess you bring out the wild in everyone, dontcha?" she purred in Remy's ear. "Wanna give me a go?"

"Oh _puh-leeze_," the gum-popping Asian girl seemed to pipe up out of nowhere. "The only go you'll get is the go ahead for the crazy ward, you nut."

The blonde stood up to face her friend off. "Jubes, I swear if you twat-"

And Kitty popped up in the middle of the table and into their standoff, grabbing an earlobe on each girl and pinched them. "Hush, both of you! Children are present and it's too early! Hit on Remy later!"

"Damn phaser," Jubilee grumbled, rubbing where Kitty pinched.

Tabitha rubbed her ear quickly before acting indignant and rolling her eyes. "You," she pointed at Kitty. "You're lucky no one can physically hurt you. And you," she narrowed her eyes at Jubilee. "I know where you sleep. And _you_," she purred at Remy. "I'll be seeing _you_ later."

Remy almost breathed a sigh of relief as the blonde walked away. He appreciated attention and he'd appreciate her _a lot_ more if she wasn't double whammy jail bait: a minor _and_ under the Wolverine's care.

Kitty had a devilish gleam to her eye. "You're welcome," she bowed happily as she exited the middle of the table and sat back down next to the blue, fuzzy food compactor.

"Tabitha is persistent. Perhaps you will let her know you are not interested soon?" Piotr commented quietly, still focused on his coffee and paper.

"Maybe. Or maybe I'll avoid breakfasts from now on, _hein_?" Remy muttered, looking at the utter chaos still happening around them. He moseyed his way over to the coffeemaker. Still one cup left and he could fancy a cup. He grabbed a mug and poured it in, lightly flavoring and re-warming it with some quick concentration. He didn't _need_ caffeine, he just appreciated the taste. He made his way back to the table, about to sit down, when Kitty and Kurt shot up.

"Wait!" she screeched. He flinched. She sure knew how to grab someone's attention.

"Hmm?"

"Was that the last cup?" Kitty looked frantic. Kurt's eyes darted from the cup, to Kitty, to the door, and then back to the cup.

"Think so."

"Ohhh no no no, this is so not good. You already put stuff in it, didn't you?" She sounded panicky.

"_Ouais_. Why does it-"

The door swung open. Kitty and Kurt looked at each other, then at Remy.

"May God help you," Kurt whispered.

He was about to ask what the hell they were talking about, but he was answered soon enough.

"Who the hell took the last cup of coffee?"

It was Rogue's low, yet piercing southern drawl that cut the chaos in half and left everyone scooting away from Remy. With the room slowly clearing, he could see Rogue's backside facing the coffeemaker, holding an empty carafe.

Well, that explained that. He smirked a little. This could be fun.

Rogue took a slow turn around and took a slow glance around the room. The answer was obvious: everyone was staring at Remy, who leisurely took a sip of the in-demand life-nectar.

"Mornin', _chérie,_" he grinned, cheering her with the cup.

The way she slinked towards him reminded him of a lethal snake tangoing with a victim rodent. She cleared the path with an almost inaudible hiss and glowered down at him.

"You. Took. The. Last. Cup."

He looked at his cup, then leaned over to look at the coffeemaker, then looked back at his cup and shrugged and smiled. "Looks like."

He heard a faint popping of the bones in her clenching fists.

"You haven't been here long, but let me make this clear." She leaned closer to him and slitted her eyes. She smelt surprisingly good. "One large cup is always reserved for me. You drink my cup, you finish it dead. Got that?"

He faked a frowny face. "Well, it looks like someone ain't a mornin' person."

"And if you don't remember next time, you won't be either," she muttered.

"Well, we wouldn't want that now, would we, _chérie_?" He took one last sip from his mug before raising it towards her with his most charming smirk. "How 'bout we share, _hein_?"

In all honesty, he expected her to be taken aback by his generous kindness. But she just narrowed her eyes, grabbed the mug and chugged it back, not leaving any drop left for him. She smiled dangerously as she handed him back the mug.

"Sharin's for pansies. And by the amount of sugar that was in that crap, I'd say you fit the part well."

She whipped away, making her way to the garages in which the rest of the students were slowly emptying into. Remy smirked as she walked away. That was fun. It bit at his man-pride, but it wasn't enough to damage his ego.

But then he looked down at his empty mug and at the empty carafe. Not one drop left.

"You could help with the blonde but you couldn't tell me with Mornin' Rogue?" He deadpanned to Piotr, who continued his quiet morning pastime despite the disruptions.

"I also enjoy good morning entertainment."

"And here I thought we were friends."

"As your friend, I know you would not have reacted any differently had I warned you."

That was something worth pondering.

"You're right. Maybe I won't skip mornin's after all."

* * *

Remy decided it was nice to have friends that weren't Guild related. It meant not having to constantly remember why he was here and how much he could go for a drink with his brother and cousins in the French Quarter. All moping aside, he decided he had missed the companionship of quiet Piotr and insane St. John. Sure, the rules had changed a little (like having to check in and checkout, not being drunk around the kids, not bringing bad attention to the Institute, not bringing girls home with him- now _that_ one hurt the most), but the camaraderie was still there.

So when St. John agreed to go out on the town to celebrate the Three Alco-teers (don't ask) being reunited, it was just the kind of enthusiasm Remy needed. And when even Piotr had begun to sound excited, Remy got that much more excited. It reminded him of simpler times, times in which people weren't dead and people weren't exiled and people could drink in peace. And drinking in peace they were.

Well, in relative peace. St. John (still) had that annoying habit of cackling extremely too loud and drawing attention to the group.

Regardless, it was nice. They had done the bro-bonding part and now were mingling around to do their own thing. Remy had his hands full with a poker table and Piotr had a pool table to himself. St. John… was doing something stupid, probably. Remy made sure to search St. John out after every hand. While he couldn't say he understood his ex-teammate completely, he did know that he went from eccentric-interesting to manic-destructive quicker than he could get a bar-maid to flash him- and that was pretty quick.

Two hands later and Remy saw St. John walk away from a small table of clearly not-interested girls and into a corner of a bar. That was suspicious. St. John alone with a few drinks in him and a lighter. He watched him for a few hands more before clearing the table and taking his winnings. When Remy looked back up, there was a dark, cloaked figure sitting across from a smiling St. John.

"St. John got a new friend, did he?" Remy eased over to Piotr's table.

"I would not say it is a new friend." Piotr didn't have to look over to the corner to know St. John was there.

"You know 'em?"

"St. John has yet to formally introduce."

"But you know 'em?"

Piotr cracked a smile. "Perhaps."

Remy grabbed a pool stick. "Always a man of many words."

"I do believe he wants his friend to be a… secret."

"A secret, ehy? Would this by any chance be a secret… girl friend?"

"Perhaps."

"If I buy you a drink, will you tell me?"

"Perhaps, but I do not think it will be a mystery to solve."

Remy waved the waitress over and gave her a sexy grin. She reciprocated just the same, rubbing up against him a lot more than needed in a bar not so full.

"What can I get you, handsome?" she purred.

He handed her some money and pulled her closer to whisper the order in her ear. It was unnecessary, he knew, but it was fun. Watching these girls' reactions and feeling their emotions flutter was exciting and he almost solely lived for this game. He was a ladies' man, after all.

And as the waitress sashayed away, giving him flirty glances and biting her lip seductively, Piotr shook his head.

"Must you play your games with all the women?"

Remy spared Piotr a reprimanding glance. "I wouldn't so much call it a game as giving them what they want." He forgot how much Piotr didn't approve of his woman appreciating ways.

"And how do you know what a woman wants?"

It was hard to tell if that was condescending or an actual question. Regardless, Remy tapped his head as he tapped a striped ball into a corner pocket. "It's all in the emotions. They all want attention- it's just learnin' to what degree."

"And if you did not have your…" Piotr paused to find a word, while eyeing a solid. "Your abilities, how would you know?"

"It's easy, _mon ami_. It's the body language, it's how she talks," He grinned as the waitress paraded closer with his drinks and a coy smile. "It's the way she looks as she comes up."

"Vodka tonic for tall, dark, and handsome over here," she hummed, reaching over and handing Piotr his drink. And was that a slight blush on his face?

"And a bourbon straight for you, sexy," she purred, letting herself be enthralled by quick touches.

"Did you get the others?"

"Of course. The girl wanted a cosmo and the guy… wanted a mai-tai," she faltered, trying not to giggle.

"_Bon, chérie_," he crooned. "By any chance, you get a good look at the girl?"

It was obvious the girl tried not to look jealous. "Uh, yeah," she twirled her hair nervously. "Just some gothy girl with black hair. That's all I could see."

Remy smirked as he looked towards confirmation with Piotr.

"_Merci, chérie_, just tryin' to keep an eye on a friend," he winked, knowing it would throw her off the jealous track and back onto the lets-do-it track.

"Of course," she smiled again. "Can I get you anything else?" she braced his arm again.

"I think we're good for now, but if I need somethin'," he drew her closer and murmured into her ear, "You'll be the first to know, _chérie_."

Remy ignored Piotr's disapproving look and instead nodded towards St. John. "Ex-boss man's crazy daughter? Really?"

"He is not of the same mind as most."

"I'll say," Remy chuckled, shooting back some bourbon and continuing with the game.

After a silent moment and a few turns, Piotr spoke up again. "But if they are not so…forward, these women… how can you tell they… want the attention?"

Remy fought hard to hold his accusations and dumbfounded looks in. If he didn't know any better… Piotr was asking for indirect advice with indirect eye contact and slightly tinged cheeks.

"The ones that aren't so forward, you gotta study them. See how they are around other people, then see how they are around you." He pretended not to be surprised by the questions as he casually made his way around the table. "And then you gotta see if they go out of their way to get attention," he remembered to point out, just as casually. He wondered how long Piotr had been waiting to ask questions of this nature.

Through his periphery, he saw Piotr slowly nod and think more. "And how does one make sure-"

"Sorry, mates! Got lost on my way to the little boys room." St. John finally reappeared with a vengeance. He reached over and slapped Remy on the back with vigor before almost collapsing on a nearby bar stool. It was difficult to tell where St. John was on the drunk scale; he tended to be his typical crazy eccentric self with only differences in volume up until the minute he blacked out.

"You were lost in a bar for two hours?" Piotr raised his eyebrow.

"I know right?" St. John flailed his arms in the air as he wobbled on the bar stool. "They should really put bloody signs in here!"

Piotr and Remy gave each other long looks as they continued their game.

"How was the mai-tai, _mon ami_?"

"Delicious mate, thanks!" He grinned, completely forgetting his cover. He was too easy to pump information out of.

"And did Wanda enjoy her cosmo?"

"Said it coulda used a little more triple sec, but it was alright. She sends her thanks," he saluted in a manner very reminiscent of Remy. And then his eyes widened. "Not that I saw her or anything," he retracted quickly. "Because that would mean something's going on. And it's not. At all."

They just stared at him, clearly not believing him.

"No idea what you're talkin' about, mates! None! I swear it!"

They took a brief moment to look at each other, and then back at him.

St. John threw his hands up in the air and professed loudly. "Fine! You've found me out! I give up! It's true! The beautiful Scarlet Witch and I have been secretly meeting each other for weeks now, mates!"

"St. John, how could you, I just don't understand how this happened," Remy recited, deadpan and dull, rolling his eyes.

"We couldn't help it! It just happened! I tried to keep it a secret, mates, but our love is too great!"

The theatrics was one of the hints he should be cut off soon. They also hinted some mental instability when he was sober. For all they knew, he could be delusional at this point.

"How long you two been datin'?"

"Not long enough," he sighed loudly.

"And does Wanda realize you two are dating?" It was Piotr who had to ask the delusion-dashing question. Sure enough, it momentarily stopped St. John's worrisome wobbling on the bar stool.

"Y'know… I don't think she does…"

Another long glance passed between each other before decided silently that sometimes, it was better to let things go with St. John.

"But I'll tell ya, mates, you're real good about findin' me out. I was being sneaky-sneaky," he nodded triumphantly.

Remy gripped his shoulder to steady him before he fell over in a big red mess. "St. John, consider this some free advice, from one professional… to you. With hair as red as yours, there's no way you could be sneaky. Ever. If ever you think you're bein' sneaky, don't believe it."

St. John nodded intently, clearly not understanding the sarcasm. "Good stuff, mate, thanks!" He went back to wobbling around in his chair.

Remy turned to Piotr. "Would a drunk Pyro be easier to take back than a blacked-out Pyro?"

They watched him wobble around with a lit lighter in his hands and a grin on his face.

Remy caught the attention of the waitress again. "_Chérie_, we're gonna need more drinks."

* * *

By the time they stumbled back into the mansion, Remy could tell that within an hour or so, the sun would rise and a few hours later, the students would wake up to start the weekend. He laughed a little, because he knew their weekend would be as awesome as his was. Oh, the perks of being an adult.

Piotr and Remy made it out of the car gracefully while St. John not so gracefully was passed out in the backseat. They did their typical pull-shove teamwork and pushed St. John out of the car, onto the cold cement of the garage.

"You know what would be funny?" What was mean became funny in his slightly, _slightly_ buzzed state.

Piotr raised his eyebrows.

"Putting him on the Wolverine's bike."

Piotr grimaced fondly. "Wolverine threatened to have Bobby ice his hands the next time St. John touched his bike."

"There was a first time?"

"Wolverine had Bobby ice St. John's lighters in a large block for sitting on his bike."

Remy slightly hissed in pain for his friend. "Poor guy. How long did it take for his lighters to recover?"

"He did not realize he could put them under hot water for many days."

"Two days?"

"Three."

"After one, he deserved it."

"Da." Piotr hoisted a seemingly dead St. John over his shoulder and began a quiet match to his room.

Remy would have followed, but the blue flashes of light emanating from the rec room intrigued him. It was too damn early for civilization to be starting the day, but who the hell was up this early? He crept in quietly, not seeing the top of anyone's head over the couch. Leaning over the couch, he saw a little ball of black curled up with some white sticking up out of the head. He smirked. If it was who he thought it was… He walked over the TV and almost turned it off, when the grouchy voice stopped him.

"Hey, I'm watchin' that."

Remy turned and smirked brightly at her. "Well, good mornin',_ chérie_."

She scowled. "Move your fat ass over. You're blockin' the TV."

"Anythin' for you," he acquiesced and sat himself on the opposite side of the couch, making sure to sprawl out enough to almost touch her with his leg. "What are we watchin'?"

"Jersey shore."

He groaned, immediately recognizing the orange, drunk people parading around. "Have you no respect for yourself?"

"Watching Snooki makes me feel better about myself, now shut up," she swatted as he attempted for the remote. He grimaced as he continued watching the train wreck of a show called Jersey Shore. He just couldn't look away as one of the oompa-loompas danced her panties off.

After a few minutes of silence, she coughed. "Jesus, you reek like a bar bathroom," she grumbled.

"Always a ray of sunshine, you are," he complimented.

"Always obnoxious, day or night, you are," she growled back.

"You know, for not bein' a mornin' person, you sure are up early." He nudged her with his foot. Rogue curled up even more and finally looked at him long enough to shoot him a glare.

But even through her glare, he could tell she was about to fall asleep or kill someone trying. He couldn't help but to chuckle. "_Mon Dieu,_ you look like shit."

A foot peaked out from under the black blanket and kicked him. "Thanks a bunch, Cajun. For your information, I couldn't sleep."

He scoffed. "You look like you were sleepin' just fine a minute ago."

"No, I was watchin' TV in peace before your drunken asses came in."

"The only drunk here is St. John and he passed out before we left the bar. I'm perfectly fine."

"You smell like you fell into a bottle of bourbon."

"And how would you know that, Miss Underage?"

She groaned into the couch, something that sounded like "why me?"

He frowned. "Hey, plenty of girls would love to spend time with this sexy Cajun. You should feel lucky," he advised.

"Whatever lets you sleep at night, Cajun," she grumbled in her sleepy state.

"If you really wanna know what lets me sleep at night," he murmur, inching closer to her curled up body. She kicked him again.

"So violent, _chérie_. It makes me think you don't like me."

"Feel free to keep thinkin' that, I won't mind," she grumbled

"Your words, they hurt me so," he fake grimaced.

"If only they really could." It was a mumbled whisper, almost inaudible and completely laden with sleep. He smirked. He was so therapeutic to a woman's needs, even his presence was calming.

After a few minutes, he slowly raised up and away from the couch. He took one last look at her before leaving completely, only slightly troubled by the grimace contracting her face. At least she was finally asleep.

He began a quiet ascent and was met at the top by Logan.

"What are you doin' up so damn early?"

"Who said anythin' about sleepin'?"

"Just get in?"

"Just wake up?"

Logan shook his head as he passed by, clearly annoyed as he grumbled something about a stupid Cajun. Logan stopped a few steps later and called back up to him.

"Who's down there?"

"Rogue," Remy called back, before being near choked by his own shirt.

"You take her out again?" Logan hissed in front of his face.

"She was awake when we got back, _homme_, now hands off." He narrowed his eyes. Sheesh, you take a girl out for drinks one time…

Logan let go and stiffly asked "Why's she up?"

Remy shrugged lazily as he straightened out his shirt. "Said she couldn't sleep."

"Couldn't or wouldn't?"

What an odd thing to ask. "Dunno. Looks like she fell asleep just fine."

Logan evaluated his answer before nodding.

"Interrogation done yet?" Remy smiled sarcastically.

"Done." Logan began to walk away. "But do everyone a favor and take a shower. You smell like the inside of a bar bathroom."

Remy rolled his eyes, but he couldn't help but to smell himself when he got back into the privacy of his own room.

He decided that as an occasional pursuer of bar bathroom nocturnal activities, they had no idea what they were talking about.

* * *

Hello all. Here's a quick update of randomness. I had the hardest time starting this chapter, but after I started, the randomness started to pour out. I haven't done a whole chapter all to Remy yet, so I thought I'd explore him a bit, and the fun life he leads. I got carried away with the bromance part, as you can tell…I was under the influence of Jersey Shore. Anywho, I'm so sorry for taking so long, but I did other stories to keep you all entertained. But for now, must find job! Must make money! Must get reviews! XD I enjoy getting them and they make writing the next chapter so much easier and obsessive when I'm inspired by all your kind words. Love and other drugs, MidnightManic!


	11. Don't Pervert My Bed

**Title: **The Wreckage

**Disclaimer: **I don't even own the rights to my soon to be college degrees and will not for many, many, many years… It's called a starving student, and by the state of my fridge, I'm living the dream.

**Pairing:** Rogue and Remy

**Rating: **Teen/Mature

**Warnings:** Contains dark and adult themes

**Summary: **It's what happens when two sides collide. The explosion between what you want and what you need, what's right and what's wrong. It's the wreckage. And it could be so easy. ROMY.

* * *

**The Wreckage**

**Chapter Eleven**

**Don't Pervert My Bed With Your Slimy Cajun Thoughts**

* * *

Before she realized what she was doing, Rogue had abruptly jumped from her seat and near stopped breathing.

"What do you mean, there's a _cure_?" The words came out as shaky breath, yet a hopeful one.

"There is _nothing _wrong with us. There is nothing to cure," was Storm's immediate answer.

She could see the teachers looking at each other through their peripheries, as if they were saying 'I told you so' to each other.

"They can stop our powers?" She almost pleaded an affirmative answer.

"Rogue…" Kitty tugged Rogue back down into her seat. She sat on the edge, feeling nervous and… hopeful.

Professor Xavier sighed and folded his hands. "Current research has suggested theories and experiments that… suppress the X-gene and perhaps this could lead to permanent inhibition of mutant powers."

"You mean they just mess with our DNA and our powers are just… gone?" God, she must sound so pathetic right now and frankly, she didn't give a damn.

"The only significant outcome these experiments have suggested is suppression of vital life functions, Rogue. The probability of even a mediocre survival rate due to these permanent measures are slim to none," Hank clarified quietly.

"And what about the other devices? Like the collar inhibitors?" Any ray of hope would do at this point.

"I'm sorry, Rogue. Any prototype of X-gene suppression has had no desirable outcome."

There were so many other questions biting the tip of her tongue, but she knew the looks they were giving her. They were all thinking how any power was a gift and to wish it away… blah blah blah. But if Magneto had figured out a way to enhance powers, hell, even suppress aging, how far off was it to conceive a working cure? With extreme government backing, she imagined they could cure mutants before they cured cancer.

And even as she shut up, she felt the pitying eyes of her teammates linger even through their periphery. It was a desperate moment to try and find desperate hope. She felt she was justified as she dejectedly fiddled with the plastic wrapper on her water bottle and tried to ignore the constant card shuffling next to her.

"In any case," Professor Xavier pointed everyone's attention back to the display screen in the War Room, "Discussions and plans of experiments and cures have only strengthened talk about enforcing mutant registration. And in enforcing mutant registration, new schematics for an improved Sentinel initiative have been compiled."

"But wasn't the Sentinel program forcibly discontinued after Apocalypse?" Jean asked.

"According to the media, yes. However, that is not to suggest it hasn't become a hot topic in regards to ensuring national security. To think the idea is completely abolished due to a horrific initial testing is a naïve notion that we cannot afford to rely on," Hank sighed.

"Professor," Scott interrupted. "All these designs and schematics- shouldn't they be top secret? Where is this information coming from?"

Rogue wondered bitterly if the Professor paused because they weren't ready to know what other diabolical team of supervillans were out for them.

"This information was found on the database of various pharmaceutical companies; in particular, government funded pharmaceutical companies."

Rogue was sure the chilling silence wasn't from Bobby's presence.

"The _U.S_. government?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

Professor Xavier took the silent moment to glance around the room and steeple his hands. "I understand this is difficult to hear for many of you, that our government would sanction such measures-"

"And we thought having Mystique as our principle was bad," Kitty muttered right next to Rogue.

"But it now more important than ever to be an example for the mutant community, even if only to delay such oppressive measures."

"Professor, how long have you known about this?" Jean spoke up quietly, as if reminded by Kitty's seemingly harmless comment.

He hesitated again. "This information came to me earlier this month. And during that time, Hank and I have dedicated much time to expose and understand the various components of these blueprints. There is much to be understood and analyzed, and seemingly much more information than we have available at the present moment."

"So what are we going to do _right now_?" Scott stressed.

"At the present, there is not much we can do other than be vigilant. Until we have a better understanding of what is being done and who is behind it, there is nothing to be done."

"So we just let these guys, whoever they are, continue with making plans and doing experiments? Professor-"

"Why can't you get Kitty to hack and destroy?" Jubilee popped. "She's the one who got the 411 to begin with, yeah? Or we could drop her off at Villain HQ and she could literally walk in and destroy everything."

"Woah, woah, woah! I didn't get the information!" Kitty exclaimed. "And why are you volunteering me for a suicide mission?"

"Exactly!" Scott exclaimed, ignoring Kitty's protests. "Professor, we should be doing whatever we can to destroy this information! You could send a group of us and we could-"

"Scott," the Professor reprimanded sharply. "At the present time, there just isn't enough information to justify a mission that could get you captured and experimented on."

"Well, if we can't go in and destroy, then why not have Kitty hack her way through, keep tabs on them?" Jean pleaded.

"I could do it, no problem," Kitty offered. "Just gimme some Koolaid and I'm good to go!"

And the ideas spurting out of various mouths began an uproar that couldn't be reasoned with...

"_Dieu_, really?" She heard Remy mutter next to her, obviously annoyed. Subsequently, she was best prepared for the single playing card exploding at the middle of the table.

"What the heck, Gambit?" Scott seethed, glaring at the bored-looking Cajun next to her.

"What ya'll are failin' to understand is this ain't as simple as drainin' the fountain of knowledge. This is an arms race now," he drawled and continued shuffling his cards lazily. Rogue vaguely wondered what he would do if she stole his cards from him mid-shuffle. Would he spontaneously combust with boredom? It was a tempting thought.

"An arms race? What's that supposed to mean?" Jean asked.

"It don't matter if you hit major corporations. This information, these plans, they're a hot commodity in the underground and there are some companies willin' to pay a pretty penny for it and already have. Now, it's just a matter of who can get the funding and who can make it happen first."

"So, it sounds like we're pretty much screwed," Tabitha shrugged, preening her nails uninterrupted.

"No, it just means we can't be obvious about it," Rogue answered and rolled her eyes.

"So we use criminal means?" Jean furrowed her eyebrows.

"If you want results that won't trace back here, then _oui_," Remy shrugged.

"What Remy means to say is, despite the pressing need to act now, we cannot be reckless. This is a sensitive issue and-"

Scott stood up suddenly, clearly fuming. "It was _you_," he glowered at Remy.

"Give the boy a prize," Remy muttered.

"_You_ were passing this information around the criminal world, weren't you?"

Everyone, including Rogue, turned to look at Remy's answer.

"_Oui_," Remy shrugged easily. "_Mais_, in my defense, I wasn't aware it was mutant business until after the fact."

"After the fact meaning after you made a pretty penny off it, right?" Scott sneered. Everything in the room had stilled- even his card shuffling.

"Scott-" the Professor tried to intervene.

Remy shrugged again. "Usually make it a point not to mix my business and personal life. Good thing I did this time, _hein?_"

"Do you realize how many mutants could _die_ because of your arrogant ignorance?" He shrugged off Jean's attempt to calm him down. "Or does it not matter to you that you sold out your own kind for some fast cash?"

"Scott!" the Professor reprimanded.

And Scott whirled around. "Professor X, how could you let a _traitor_-"

Maybe she was conditioned to the word traitor, but before she knew it, Rogue had stood up in a growing, blind rage and flung her water bottle at Scott's head with deadly accuracy.

"What the_ hell-_"

"Did it even _occur_ to you that he's already saved a buncha lives by lettin' us know this information even _exists_? Or that _maybe_ he was just a messenger who didn't know what the hell he was doin'?" she hissed through gritted teeth. How was Scott so holier-than-thou that he didn't _understand_ what Remy did, that in the Guild, he could get _killed_ for this?

"He's obviously a tra-"

"Don't you _even_ go there, Scott Summers," she banged her hand on the table. If ever there was a word she hated, it was _that_ word. "If he was a traitor, he woulda walked away an' not cared _whatsoever._"

"How can you even defend him? He sold you out too!"

She glared, gripping the table to keep her from climbing over and socking him. How could she _not_ defend him? Not everyone was raised with a moralistic X-Men logo patched onto their clothes- and those who weren't were hardly given a chance. "How he got the information may not fit into your black-and-white moral scheme, but he got it here so we could see it, so shut the hell up an' get off your high horse, Summers," she spat.

"_Chérie,_" she heard Remy mutter and try to get her to sit back down.

"No, Ah'm _done_ with this hypocrisy," she growled. But stopping her storming off was Remy's firm grip around her wrist.

"Let _go_," she hissed.

"Sorry _chérie_, _mais_, you especially need to see this next part," he murmured low. She appraised him heatedly for a minute before sulking down into her seat, glaring daggers at a red-faced Scott, challenging him to say something to her.

"_Professeur_, if you could show 'em the rest now?" Remy's voice was calm and unshakably suave, as though the entire altercation never happened.

The Professor nodded grimly. "Of course, but before I do... What I have shown you thus far is by no chance due to Remy's intervention and this next part is no exception. I wish that you will understand the great risks Remy has taken to provide this information to us today, for it certainly has saved lives already."

And Rogue's blood ran cold as the Professor flipped slide after slide, pausing on each slide momentarily to let the words and pictures sink in. Each slide held a picture of each X-Men and information sheet filled with identities, stats, hobbies, places of residence…and mutant powers.

"Holy_ shit_," Kitty whispered, her eyes glued horrifically to the screen.

"How did they get this information?" Kurt whispered, just as horrified.

"This information was found at a particular high-level government linked-compound."

"But how do they know so much about us though? Our hobbies, our _grades_?" Kitty screeched. Rogue wondered wryly if Kitty was more shocked that they knew of her _one_ B+ on record, rather than her blood type.

"The school. Kelly's not going to keep information on us a secret," Rogue heard someone mutter glumly, Scott probably.

"Some are more filled out than others," Rogue whispered.

"Like yours…" Kitty gaped as Rogue's own file popped up.

"Professor, wait!" Rogue exclaimed. She studied her file more and realized her was minutely different from some of the others, besides the amount of information. "Why do some profiles say 'investigation pending'?" Her voice faltered and cracked. Maybe she didn't need an answer, but maybe she'd like to hear the truth said aloud than in her head.

Professor Xavier's eyes met hers calmly.

"We have reason to believe they have become... interested in certain individuals."

"Like… they're starting to pick experiment subjects?" Kitty whispered.

When the Professor didn't answer, the room erupted into uproar again. Amidst the hysterics, she heard Tabitha mutter dumbly a few seats away, "Well, Rogue, you wanted a cure."

God, she was not in the mood, especially after dealing with Scott. "I'll show you a cure," Rogue hissed and lunged for Tabitha. Kitty, Kurt, and Remy all lunged for Rogue and forced to back into her seat. She acquiesced and sat and swatted at her restrainers, satisfied at Tabitha's surprised and fearful face.

"Everybody, shut up!" Logan hollered before Remy could throw another card. The room quieted.

"This news is quite frightful and I understand the feeling of panic, especially for those who have seemingly been targeted. However, I will do whatever I can to make sure this _does not _occur. We are stumbling upon difficult times and while it is easier to point false blame," he looked pointedly at Scott, "it does not help this situation. We must work together."

"So, what are we going to do? We can't just go on as if we didn't hear this," Jean pointed out.

"I informed you of recent developments not to spring into action, but for you to practice extreme vigilance in any place you may be."

"This means while at the Institute and at your own homes. We will be enforcing the buddy-system again, as well as increasing security so no one can sneak in, _or out._" Ororo made a point to look at a few violators, such as Rogue herself.

"And consider not having yer communicators enough to make you have DR detention for a year," Logan threatened.

"What about school?" Jubilee popped. "Can we just not go, since Mutant Lab Supporter Numero Uno is Kelly?"

The Professor sighed. "Unfortunately, until we obtain teaching credentials and more teachers for the institute, Bayville High is where you will stay. I will be speaking to Kelly directly to… make sure problems do not arise while you are school."

"But we're just sitting ducks there!" Kurt exclaimed.

"Not necessarily," Hank interrupted. "Resources and funding are limited and until we gather more information on updated experimental designs, it is highly unlikely they will begin testing anytime soon."

"Rest assured, we will be keeping an eye out for suspicious activity-"

"Oohh Ohh!" Kitty bounced up and down in her seat as she waved her hand wildly. "Can I help? Please? Seriously, Black Cherry Koolaid and I'm good to go!"

And while everyone groaned at the thought of a hyped up Kitty, the Professor let a small smile twitch at the corners of his mouth. "I wouldn't dream of asking anyone else."

"Yes!" she pumped her arm.

Rogue thought it was ironic that Kitty was excited to hack into and keep tabs on companies that were hell bent on destroying all of mutant-kind.

"Professor," Piotr asked for permission to speak quietly. All eyes swiveled to the normally quiet mutant. "How many other mutants were on these files?" Leave it to Piotr to look at the big picture and slap some sense into the egocentric.

"Too many."

It was a sobering thought.

"Unfortunately, many of those who may be targeted could not be reached by conventional means. Of those who could, I have called to make them aware of the situation and to offer them protection as well."

"What about the Brotherhood?" Kitty became alarmed.

"And the Morlocks?" Kurt added.

"The Morlocks will be contacted soon. And as for the Brotherhood, I'm sure you will take the liberty to inform them?"

"And then some," Rogue muttered, knowing how Kitty would blow this out of proportion. Then again, maybe that was better than downplaying it.

"And in the mean time," Logan came out of the shadows again with a sadistic gleam into his eyes. Everyone groaned. "It's time to make you all a little more real world ready. Up and out!" He pointed to Danger Room entrance.

* * *

While she understood the much needed kick in the pants once in a while, she kicked herself about wanting to change up the Danger Room sessions previously. Preparing for another Apocalypse sounded like a good idea, but this session was a pure melee beyond apocalyptic reason. She felt like it was truly an X-Men rendition of Super Smash Brothers: Brawl. It sampled "villains" from every major battle they faced and then some. It was a trial even for her. She would be hurting tomorrow; surely, everyone else would be immobile.

And as an afterthought, she wondered how much fun Logan had to have with putting that together and how much he begged the Professor to let him actually run it on the entire Institute. She also wondered if he was subconsciously pleased with these "recent developments"; it gave him a good excuse to kick ass on all fronts.

Regardless, she was ready to pass out. It had been a long weekend of fighting nightmares and trying to stay awake through the fog. She couldn't fight it tonight though. It was a school night. She entered her room, clad in a sweater and sweats, toweling off her hair. Shortly after she sat down to open her laptop, a persistent, shallow knocking started at her door.

She opened her door, only to be met with no one standing in the hallway. And as she closed the door, she heard the knocking again. As she turned to her balcony, she felt incredibly stupid. No wonder it hadn't sounded like normal knocking. It was Remy LeBeau, smirking and waving like an arrogant idiot at her balcony door.

Rogue took one look at him, waved him off and said "meh," and proceeded to just sit back at her computer desk. He would leave after a while or just let himself in.

And he did let himself in, seemingly with ease. She probably didn't remember to lock the balcony door anyways. Not like it could have deterred him anyways

"If we were in the south, I'd have to take away your Southern Belle card for not lettin' me inside like a good host."

"I think the South makes exceptions for not lettin' Thieves inside your home," not taking her eyes off her computer.

"I could have been a suitor callin'."

"Then I woulda lost mah card anyways for lettin' a strange man into mah room afta hours and unattended. What would tha neighbors say? Mah virtue would be no more!" she feigned a stronger Southern Belle accent and raised her hand to her head, as if to faint.

"Touché." Through her periphery, she saw he lounged on her bed. "But then again, I coulda stole you a new card." She hoped he showered after the workout- she really didn't want to be sleeping in Cajun sweat tonight.

"And then again, I could get in trouble for you bein' in here regardless what side of the Mason-Dixie we're on, so what do you want?"

"Can't a Southern Gentlemen converse with a Southern Belle without bein' questioned?"

"Ordinarily, yes, but I don't see either in the room, only a Swamp Rat and girl gettin' ready for bed."

"You need any help?"

She turned and gave him a deep, questioning look. "Help with what?"

"Gettin' ready for bed. I know a lot of tricks to make it fun," he winked.

She threw a pen at him. "Don't pervert my bed with your slimy Cajun thoughts. I just washed the sheets."

"If I can't think it, can I just do it?"

She threw a book at him in disgust. He caught it and began to flip through it with a low, impressed whistle. "Advanced Calculus. You're a smart one, aren't you?"

She rolled her eyes. "Hardly. They just stuck me in it, probably hoped I'd fail out and not graduate this year."

He raised his eyebrows. "Graduatin' this year?"

"Supposed to," she shrugged, resisting the urge to add she had missed enough school they had been threatening to _not_ let her graduate regardless.

"What're you gonna do after?"

"Ionno," she shrugged again and sighed. "Maybe stay here, do online college or somethin'?"

"Not real college?"

"And deal with more of the same? No thank you. I'd rather get a degree from the anonymity of my own room."

"Ain't college supposed to be different?"

She snorted. "I doubt it. From what I gathered, it's the same drama as high school minus the adult supervision."

"But there's alcohol," he pointed out.

"And sluts."

"And spring breaks in Cabo."

"And STDs."

"And wet tee-shirt contests."

She snorted. "Maybe _you_ should take my place in academia. Sounds like your kind of thing."

"And break my life streak of avoidin' being on public record? Never." He shook his head adamantly.

"And college does take some kind of commitment. Guess you really couldn't do it then."

"Are you sayin' I have commitment issues?"

"Yuuuup!" she popped.

"I'll have you know, I can summon up a lot of dedication when I want to."

"Can't see that bein' very often then."

"Pshh, you can't pull off as many successful heists as I have without some elbow grease- And they don't me the Prince of Thieves for nothin'," he nodded smugly.

She rolled her eyes. "Or maybe you're just one lucky s.o.b. Wasn't it just luck you were adopted by the Patriarch of the Thieves Guild?"

He gaped. "Hey! I may have been adopted in, but I earned my title fair and square. And even if I wasn't the Prince, I'm still the best out there." And he looked at her, and stroked his goatee. "Although…"

It was her turn to raise an eyebrow in dismay. "What? The all-too modest Cajun… reconsiderin' himself and all his swampy glory?"

"Some would consider you a good thief too… just a different kind of thief."

"Oh, spare me," she rolled her eyes.

"I'm just sayin', had it been you instead of me… And with your amazin' advanced Calculus skills… you woulda been unstoppable."

"You make it sound like I'm old and can't do anythin' else with my life. Who knows, maybe _that_ could be my post-high school career- makin' you number two and stealin' your job out from underneath your feet." She leaned back her head and laughed gleefully. "Haaa! Pun!"

"Or maybe, you and I, we could be the next generation of thievin'. Can' you see it?" He put his hand in the air and traced through the air. "Rogue and Gambit, Bonnie and Cyde 2.0. Now with real mutant powers!"

"Only if I can commission my own Barbie doll."

"Barbie doll? You mean blow up doll, right?"

"Whatever, so long as they get my hair right and install some fancy shock system that electrocutes you when you touch it."

"And we can't forget makin' it anatomically correct."

She rolled her eyes. "Because heaven forbid a wee Cajun grow up without real nipples on a Barbie doll."

"Hey! It's our responsibility to make dreams come true for the youth."

She waved him off. "Pshh, you turned out fine with Barbies that had no nipples."

"Only cuz I had an active imagination."

"Ha! You admitted you had Barbies growin' up!" she pointed and laughed.

"Did not!"

"Yeah, sure you didn't. I'll even bet-"

A loud knock that could only come from a wooden door interrupted her followed with Ororo's voice. "Rogue?"

Rogue clamped her hand over her mouth. She hadn't realized she was being so loud. She pointed to Remy and with her fingers, instructed to roll to the side of the bed, away from the door. He grinned and did as was motioned.

"Oh wait, sorry, Wanda, I'll have to talk to you tomorrow. Ms. Munroe's callin' curfew," Rogue spoke near the door, while pulling off her sweater and flinging it across the room. Grabbing the small cell phone off her desk, Rogue opened the door and only held it a crack open, so Ororo could only see her face.

"Rogue, was that voices I heard?"

"Oh yeah, sorry," she held up the phone. "Wanda was callin' about the history paper and we got kinda got sidetracked. I'll get to sleep now."

Ororo smiled as she accepted this answer. And then she noticed the weird angle Rogue was at in the door. "Is… is everything okay? Something you don't want me to see in there?" Ororo asked, almost playfully.

Rogue bit her lip. "No, it's just… I'm not covered right now…"

"Ahh, of course. I understand then," she nodded gently. "Goodnight then, Rogue."

"Goodnight," Rogue called as she closed the door and locked it.

Remy was already up stealthily and clapped at her silently.

"Bravo, _chérie_," he grinned. "Impressive. Didn't think an X-Man could lie so convincingly well. It had all the elements: the story, the proof, the pity. Catch is, what if she called your bluff?"

Rogue put her hands on her hip. "Last person dialed was the Brotherhood house. And my "condition" is taboo enough for any excuse," she scoffed. "Eat that, Cajun."

Remy smirked. "We could make a damn good thief outta you yet," he offered.

Rogue rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, enough corruptin' my innocent, impressionable mind for one night. Out you go," she shooed, throwing on her sweater on the way to the balcony door.

Remy exited her room, but right as she was about to close the door, he stopped the door with his foot.

"Rogue," he started.

She was a little put off by his tone already. He actually said her name. "Uh, yeah?"

"The reason I came…"

"I'm listenin'…"

"I just wanted to say thank you."

"Thank you?" She was sure she looked bewildered.

"For earlier. For… defendin' me. When Scott got all…"

"Oh, that." She felt caught off guard as she rubbed her arms uncomfortably. "Yeah, don't mention it. I know how it feels… when he makes you feel like a traitor. He gets all… high and mighty like that and sometimes you gotta… throw a water bottle at his head," she chuckled fondly.

He chuckled too. "I'll have to remember that one. But in any case… thanks for givin' this thief a chance."

She shrugged. "Kinda hard not to after everythin'." And she bit her lip, uncomfortably looking away. Should she bring it up? "And thanks for lettin' us know about… everythin'. I know you aren't supposed to, with the Guild and all… but thanks for tryin' to stop Project Capture Extravaganza."

He smirked wryly. "I'm sure you've had enough kidnappin' to last a lifetime, _hein_?"

"Lord knows it," she sighed, lapsing them both into silence.

"Goodnight, Rogue," he finally responded, grabbed her sweater covered hand and kissed the material.

"'Night," she called back, watching him climb onto the balcony rail.

Before she could close the door, he gave her one last smirk and a two fingered salute. "Might I add you look better without all that crap on your face?"

She rolled her eyes. "Goodnight, Cajun."

And as she got into slightly Cajun-scented bed, she realized that it was the longest conversation she ever had with Remy that wasn't filled with death threats from minute two. It was the longest conversation since _the incident_. Sure, it ultimately was to express his gratitude, but still… it was a decent conversation that involved some amusement on both ends. By defending him, she had unintentionally opened the lines of communication between them again, another reminder that they shared yet another similar trait. And as she went to sleep, she wasn't exactly sure it was a bad thing.

* * *

**AN:** Well hello again, friends! Another chapter down- making this number eleven? I'm on a roll here and I don't want to stop ever. I'm trying to incorporate some action-y things in here, but be forewarned: I haven't read the comics, so I'll be making stuff up as I go. It's not that I don't _want_ to read the comics- it's just that life won't allow me to. Anyways, I'll try not to offend at all, and I'll try to follow what I know, but… no promises. Anywho, I just realized how fun conversational banter is between them two. It came freakishly easy too. In any case, I hope you enjoyed another chapter of rambling fun and as always, I hope you please, please please review. I appreciate all comments, flames or compliments. Enjoy the weekend, all! MidnightManic


	12. He's Climbing in Your Windows

**Title: **The Wreckage

**Disclaimer: **I don't even own the rights to my soon to be college degrees and will not for many, many, many years… It's called a starving ex-student, and by the state of my fridge, I'm living the dream.

**Pairing:** Rogue and Remy

**Rating: **Teen/Mature

**Warnings:** Contains dark and adult themes

**Summary: **It's what happens when two sides collide. The explosion between what you want and what you need, what's right and what's wrong. It's the wreckage. And it could be so easy. ROMY.

* * *

**The Wreckage**

**Chapter Twelve**

**He's Climbing in Your Windows, He's Snatching Your Rogues Up**

* * *

Wanda narrowed her eyes suspiciously at the two giggling backseat passengers who were shrieking over a magazine. Then she gave Rogue a look through the glass- a look that plainly said, 'really?'

Rogue grimaced in return. 'I had no choice.'

And Wanda heaved as sigh as she slid into the front seat. 'You owe me.'

'Yeah, I know.' Rogue couldn't protest as she squealed off down the road. It _was_ too early for Kitty and Jubilee shrieking and giggling and "ohmygoshing". But she really didn't have any choice. It was the dynamic duo of shopping hell or… well, there wasn't anyone else. And with the new rules…

"Oh my GOSH! Is she, like, really wearing THAT!"

"Honestly, it's like Lady Gaga just puts glue on herself and rolls around in random crap."

"It's so ugly but it works so well!"

"Speaking of Lady Gaga, do you know who works so well?"

The instantaneous quiet was unnerving. Rogue looked into the rearview mirror and instantly knew the bubbling excitement coming from their fervent eyes and teethy grins.

"Close your ears," she muttered through clenched teeth towards Wanda. She was driving and couldn't save herself- but she could save Wanda from the obnoxious horror.

"What?"

"Ears. Close them _now_," she hissed, gauging the boiling of excitement and clenching the steering wheel to prepare for the onslaught. Wanda's eyes widened and she slapped her hands over her ears.

"ALEXANDER SKARSGARD!"

Needless to say, Rogue drove a lot faster than necessary or safely and squealed into a mall parking space. She felt gratified when Kitty and Jubilee braced themselves and still managed to slam into the backs of the front seats. Revenge was sweet.

"Yeesh, was that necessary?" Jubilee grumbled.

"Got you to the mall faster, didn't it?" Rogue's saccharine voice smiled through the rearview mirror.

"And everyone says I'm a bad driver," Kitty grumbled, phasing out of the car.

"That's because you are," the other three girls muttered in unison.

"Hey! I'll, like, have _you all_ know-" Kitty stamped her foot. And they all rolled their eyes.

Jubilee grabbed Kitty's arm mid-rant and started dragging her towards the mall entrance. "Walk and talk. The sales won't hit themselves, my transparent friend!"

"The lady doth protest too much, methinks," Wanda murmured besides Rogue.

"Pretty much. Coffee?"

"I expect nothing less."

"That's what I thought," Rogue sighed, as the two girls in front of them started jumping up and down and yelling at them to hurry up.

* * *

Rogue sighed as she collapsed on the food court chair with both espressos. Wanda promptly took her drink and sipped, nodding approvingly. "Your peace offering is acceptable. Now, explain yourself."

"I woulda warned you, but I knew I wouldn't have been able to convince you."

"Smart thinking."

Rogue grinned. "I knew you'd think so."

"Even smarter to invite both of them," Wanda observed. "It's like one huge positive feedback loop- with no input needed from us."

"They're a package deal these days. Not that I'm complainin' or anythin'. It gets Kitty out of my hair and finally gives her someone to share her shoppin' fetish with again."

"Why did she leave again?"

"Her parents went crazy and made her come home. It's nice to have her back."

"I didn't think you two were close."

Rogue smiled ruefully. "Well, we're not, but it's nice to see Kitty with someone so… not like me."

"How nice," Wanda murmured. "Saving Kitty from your doom and gloom."

Rogue rolled her eyes. "Har har. The only problem is Jubes and Tabby."

"Time-bomb and firecracker don't get along?" Wanda raised an eyebrow.

Rogue shook her head miserably. "You'd think they would, but when two huge personalities live together…" It had become almost a nightmare situation in which things were going to be destroyed and people were going to be killed.

"Like Lance and Scott?"

"Except more passive-aggressive." Rogue shuddered, thinking of the implosion that was only weeks away from originating in their shared room.

"And shrieky."

"And catty."

"How do Jubes and Kitty get along then?"

"Kitty doesn't have the same crazy that Tabby does." Rogue refrained from adding a 'thank God.'

"I thought Tabitha toned down the crazy," Wanda raised her eyebrow.

"Only the crazy parts that could get her kicked out. The girl has nowhere else to go." Just like herself. It made her fleetingly wonder what would happen if she got herself kicked out…

"I can't imagine Xavier ever kicking anyone out."

"I'm sure murder would do the trick."

"That bad?"

"It's only getting worse. _Stupid_ Gambit."

Wanda threw her head back and cackled, as if she had been waiting for this admission. "What has lover-boy done this time?"

Rogue shot her a dirty glare. "Jubes and Tabby both want him and the damn fool flirts with the both of them and for some reason, _I _keep gettin' stuck in the crossfire! Jubes near blinded me and Tabby almost gave me a concussion last week! Over him! Stupid _ass_," she grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest in annoyance.

"Aww, sounds horrible," Wanda nodded in fake sympathy.

"Oh hush," Rogue stuck her tongue out. "It's annoyin'."

"You know…" Wanda twirled her cup around and deviously smiled. "Maybe you're a little, oh, I don't know, _jealous_ of the attention he's giving everyone else, hmm?"

Rogue's glare turned withering. "Don't you dare even start with that crap. It's bad enough I got mental and physical Kitty sayin' it, but I will beat you," she warned.

"Hey, maybe we just call it like we see it."

Rogue rolled her eyes and waved her off. "Ugh, what do you know- you have an insane pyromaniac and an amphibian after you."

"Oh no-no-no," Wanda shook her head adamantly. "Don't try to change the subject. You can't deny there's something between you and señor ladykiller. There's too much history to say there isn't."

"And might I remind you none of it is _good_ history." And none of it was her fault. _None._

Wanda waved Rogue off. "Oh bah. When it comes down to it, you kissed him, he went off and tried to save you, and you shared some bonding moments in the bayou. Pretty decent history, if you ask me."

Rogue slightly gaped and set her coffee down, staring at Wanda as if she had grown a second head. She took off a glove, threateningly narrowing her eyes. "If you're Mystique, I'll make sure that even you won't remember who you are."

Wanda merely rolled her eyes and pointed a blue glowing finger to a small child walking hand-in-hand with his mother. The child's little shoelaces came undone and he tripped, his fall stopped by his mother's grip.

"Satisfied?"

Rogue shook her head. "Not until _you_ explain to _me_ why it feels like you've been hit with the sappy stick."

"I'm hardly being sappy."

"Then why are you talkin' like Kitty?" Rogue wailed.

"Hey! When you're the only girl in that place and she comes over to visit and she happens to have some juicy gossip, it's like a breath of fresh air in that dump!" Wanda pointed her finger warningly.

Rogue banged her head on the table. "Why? Why is everyone conspirin' against me?"

Wanda cackled again. "Well, normally I'd say you're overreacting, but given recent events, I think you're more than allowed to complain."

This comment gave Rogue renewed vigor and she flew up, her hands and teeth clenched. "And I thought I'd _finally_ get some privacy after Apocalypse but _no_. Now they're talkin' about makin' me room with Kitty again!"

Wanda shrugged. "If you survived Apocalypse, I'm sure you can survive Kitty again. Besides, she's not _that_ bad."

Rogue threw her head back. "That's not the point! Now they're treatin' me like-like I'm gonna get snatched up in the middle of the night and can't handle myself!"

Wanda fought back a grin. "Like, he's climbing in your windows, he's snatching your Rogues up?"

Rogue threw her now empty cup at Wanda. "Not. Helpin'."

Wanda cackled as she hexed the cup away from her face.

"And when the hell did you get internet?"

Wanda sighed and shrugged. "Father's been… rather generous lately."

"Have ya'll even told him?"

It was Wanda's turn to roll her eyes. "I didn't, but Pietro near pissed his pants when he found out and went crying to Father."

Rogue winced. "I take it he didn't go on a murderous rampage since it wasn't on the news."

"He was almost about to. He settled for forcing us to get a new security system."

"That's all?"

"Well, that was after he nearly balled us up and carted us off into his magnetic lair before I reminded- calmly, I'll have you know- him that we had school."

"Must be nice having some sort of independence," Rogue muttered glumly.

"Oh, it's a hoot. Having dirty boys and a dirty house and… internet. Well, I guess it's not that bad now."

"Maybe I should just move in with ya'll. No room sharin' or rules."

Wanda gave Rogue a _look_. "Oh come on, it can't be _that_ bad. Why don't you just make a fuss about your powers? That always seems to work."

"I've _tried_. And they all answer back with 'you seem to be doing just fine lately. Is there anything you'd like to talk about?'" She faked a soft, caring Yankee accent.

"Why don't you just make them just install security panels for the balcony rooms?"

Rogue sighed. "I dunno. I'll ask. I doubt Logan'll go for that."

"Worth a shot. And besides-"

And a massive array of ridiculously bright colored bags slammed on the table.

"Do NOT tell me that we've been here _this_ long and you two haven't even _begun_ to shop!" Kitty screeched.

Wanda and Rogue gave each other a long look. "Kit, how many floors have you hit?"

Kitty pointed to the bags. "Uh, _hello_. Obviously we've only hit the first floor."

"And didn't _you_ want to come here in the first place?" Jubilee popped.

"Yeah, why did you drag me here so early?" Wanda mused.

"Maybe I was bored and wanted to get out of the Institute," Rogue shrugged.

"That's all, really?" Kitty deadpanned. "You're not even going to, like, get anything?"

Rogue shrugged again. "I could use a new pair of gloves."

Kitty narrowed her eyes. "Really? Just gloves?"

And Jubilee sighed. "Rogue. _Respect _the sanctuary that's given to you."

"I think you two respected enough for all four of us. Twice." Wanda pointed to the bags.

"Ugh! No _wonder_ I haven't been able to find skinny jeans in my size all day! The mall gods are so totally displeased. You must pay homage!" Kitty shrieked.

"What is it with you people today?" Rogue muttered. "Offerings, homage- you do realize Apocalypse is dead, right?"

Jubilee and Kitty looked at each other briefly before wailing "HOMAGE!" and each grabbing a goth girl by their arm and dragging them off.

"It's creepy how they do this," Wanda muttered, trying to keep up with the sprinting mad-girls.

"If only they could use this kinda teamwork in battle."

* * *

"Come out!" Kitty banged on the door, scaring the crap out of Rogue.

"No!" Rogue grimaced at the thought of leaving the dressing room. She had stalled as long as she could for only putting a top on and she wouldn't come out if she could help it.

"And why the heck not?"

"Cuz I don't wanna!" Rogue yelled back, fully aware she sounded like a petulant child.

"I'm totally coming in! Hope you're dressed!" Kitty sang, pausing only momentarily before she phased half her body in. "Ahh! I love it!"

"Kit…" Rogue groaned.

"Oh no no! You are showing this baby off!" Kitty grabbed Rogue by the pant loops and phased her through the door.

Jubilee and Wanda turned around and grinned. Rogue felt horribly, horribly naked.

"Oh, hot damn girl," Jubilee clapped.

"Blistering," Wanda nodded. "Remind me _why_ don't you own a corset, again?"

Rogue rolled her eyes and hugged herself. Too naked. Too exposed. It was almost panic attack worthy. "I dunno. Maybe because _it shows too much_," she hissed.

"Oh hush, you can wear a jacket over it."

"Or I could not wear it at all."

"Why waste your hot bod?" Jubilee popped.

"Because someone could, I dunno, _die_? And I don't have a '_hot bod',_" Rogue defended.

"Oh shut _up_! Look at those curves! And your chest! Do you realize what you'd do to everyone at the Mansion if you showed them off once in a while! Logan's nose would go totally _crazy_!" Kitty shrieked.

"And pretty much everyone knows to be careful around you, so if they die, it's really just natural selection at work," Wanda plainly argued.

"I'd rather someone not die because of me, thank you very much. And why the hell are you all gangin' up on me today! This is the twenty-second skanky shirt you made me try on today! When do I get to pick somethin'?"

"Uh, first of all, it's because you're hot!"

"And you so totally need to live a little."

"And you're disgracing the goth community by _not_ getting this."

Rogue threw her hands in the air and walked back to the dressing room. They just _weren't_ going to get it. "Ya'll are _crazy_ to think I'm gonna buy this!" she hollered back at them.

"Who said _you_ were?" Kitty hollered back.

Rogue marched angrily back into her dressing room and near ripped the corset off. She didn't need or want to look at herself in the mirror. It was bad enough she really liked the corset on the hangar and liked the feel of the silk on her skin. She didn't want to have to like the look of it on her too. She didn't want to get so angry at her friends, but if it was the only way they would back off on making her get the ridiculously gorgeous black silk and lace corset, she would do it.

Rogue grabbed her purse and resisted the urge to completely storm out of the store without her friends. A small voice in the back of her head approved as she glared stonily at Wanda and Jubilee, reminding her of the classic abduction scenario: she splits away from her friends for one minute and bam, she's gone forever.

"I think we're done here," Rogue flatly warned.

Kitty popped up behind Rogue and cheerfully swinging a bag in Rogue's face. "Now we are!"

"You didn't," Rogue growled.

"Of course I didn't," Kitty crooned and fake pouted.

"You'll thank us," Jubilee nodded.

"Hell, I thanked them for you," Wanda crossed her arms and tapped her finger, clearly waiting for Rogue to object. Rogue stuck out her tongue instead.

"Now," Kitty grinned deviously. "Who's read for Halloween costume shopping!"

Rogue and Wanda simultaneously clamped their ears shut.

* * *

Rogue scowled in disgust at the wall of "Sexy Costumes." She wasn't sure what was more disturbing: how they managed to turn the innocent forest creatures of the Wizard of Oz into skank-wear or how there were actual kids trying them on.

"Come _on_. Get in the spirit of things, chica!" Jubilee attempted to put a set of Hello Kitty ears on Rogue's head.

"Oh yes, because I'm all 'bout bein' skanky for a day," Rogue muttered dryly as she swatted Jubilee's attempts away. She knew if she let Jubilee put on those freakishly adorable ears, there would be no stopping Jubilee's attempts to make her over.

"Exactly! Let your hair down at least one day of the year."

"My hair is always down, ya yahoo," she leaned against the display and watched Jubilee parade around in… it seemed like everything.

"Well then maybe you should consider putting it up for once," she grinned. "Or curl it. You'd look adorbs in curls."

"And maybe you should consider calmin' down on the accessories," Rogue grimaced, looking at the tacky yet exuberant Jubilee parade around.

"Yeah, what are you supposed to be anyways? A cheap knick-knack store?" a scathing voice behind them asked. Rogue winced slightly while Jubilee swung around to meet the voice.

"Speaking of cheap, who invited the ticking time bomb?"

Tabitha twirled around a red devils horn stick as she sauntered around. "Public place, you know."

"Hey guys," Amara timidly popped out behind Tabitha. She gave Rogue a quietly pleading look, as if she was already apologizing for the oncoming fight. "We thought it would be a good time to go Halloween shopping, since it's so soon and all."

"Then why is Tabitha here? It's not like she'll need a costume- she'll be on her back the entire night anyways."

And instead of snapping back, Tabitha only grinned. "That's the plan," she reached over to the devil display and snapped on some devil horns. "Although with Remy, I hardly doubt I'll _just_ be on my back."

Jubilee's cheeks reddened with anger and Rogue fought the urge to smack her forehead and groan.

"That's pathetic," Jubilee narrowed her eyes. "You're _actually_ dressing up as a devil to try and woo him?"

Tabitha grinned smugly. "Call it pathetic all you want, but this costume is just icing on the Tabby-cake. All I need is _the filling_."

And Rogue gagged a little. Tabitha could be so… graphic.

And Jubilee rolled her eyes. "Are you_ kidding_ me? He's rejected all of your slutty come-ons, you skank!"

"And he's welcomed any of your childish attempts? Puh-leeze. Let's just say, after Halloween, he won't even remember your name." Tabitha's eyes glinted mischievously as she grinned and walked away, a pained looking Amara following after.

Rogue internally groaned as she watched Jubilee's fists clench and chest heave. If Jubilee was serious about competing against Tabitha…

In a fit of anger, Jubilee ripped off all her random accessories and whipped around, pointing accusingly at Rogue. "You!"

Rogue crossed her arms. "No."

"Come onnn!" Jubilee whined.

"Nope, you are _not_ draggin' me into this cat fight," Rogue shook her head and warned.

"But you have him _in your head_. _What makes him tick_?" Jubilee grabbed Rogue's jacket by the lapels and shook her a little.

"I am _not_ delvin' into his dirty, perverted mind!" Rogue refused.

Wanda and Kitty popped up next to Jubilee from the next aisle over. "Talking about Gambit again, really? Do I really need to help you get a life?"

"I've been totally trying for years. The girl just doesn't want to be helped," Kitty sighed, trying to look forlorn.

Rogue pointed a warning finger at Kitty and Wanda. "You two, hush! And you!" She turned back to Jubilee. "Don't let Tabitha get to you. The guy is all sorts of sleezy and it's not worth the trouble."

Jubilee held up her hands. "Woah! Are you saying I can't _handle_ the hunk-o-saurus?"

It was hard not to throttle someone at this point. "What I'm _sayin' _is the guy is as easy as an Easy Bake Oven and-"

"If he's so easy _then tell me the recipe!_" She hissed, shaking Rogue again.

Rogue made a gurgled groan and with her eyes, mentally demanded Wanda and Kitty's help before she bopped the mall rat on the head.

Kitty pried Jubilee off Rogue and smacked her across the head.

"Hey! What in the world wide web was that for!"

"For not thinking straight! Pull yourself together! Don't you get what Rogue is totally trying to tell you?"

"That she obviously wants Tabitha the Slut to win Mr. Cash and Prizes!"

"No!" everyone exclaimed.

"Then what?"

"How about, it's easy to grab the guy's attention?" Wanda rolled her eyes.

"Uh, yeah! It's so totally obvious what he likes!"

And Rogue smacked her own head. It disturbed her that Wanda and Kitty obviously didn't understand what she was trying to say. This wasn't going to end well at all. But then again, at least corporeal punishment was being used.

"Think," Kitty intently shook Jubilee. "What is Remy always doing?"

"Uhh, being hot? Working out? Blowing things up? Being hot?"

"Blowing things up with…" Wanda trailed off, trying to prompt her with her glowing blue hands.

"His powers?" Jubilee flinched and squeaked as Kitty nearly smacked her again. "His… cards?"

Kitty finally smiled and loosened her grip. "His cards! Exactly! And _what _kind of costume involves cards?"

"A… vegas show girl?"

"No!" Wanda and Kitty both exclaimed.

"It's based off a movie that was just re-done…"

Blank stare.

"It had Johnny Depp in it…"

Blank stare.

"Mad hatter… Cheshire cat… White queen…"

Confused stare. "You want me to be Alice in Wonderland?"

Rogue just shook her head, feeling like she was watching a horribly scripted soap opera. This was such a lost cause. "Jesus Christ, they want you to be the Queen of Hearts!"

"Ding, ding, ding, we have a winner," Wanda retorted dryly.

And Jubilee's eyes widened like saucers as it finally dawned on her. She pumped her fist in the air and cackled. "Yes! HA! No way Skanks-A-Lot is going to win this, no sir-ee-bob!" She grabbed Kitty and they flew off around the corner, near knocking over a display before Kitty phased them through.

Wanda chuckled lightly and nodded approvingly. "Well, that was fun."

Rogue only shook her head slowly. "Kitty, I can understand, but you? You knew that wasn't where I was goin' with that _at all_."

And Wanda grinned darkly. "Oh, I know. But I can't resist watching a good train wreck."

"You aren't even gonna be there. _I_ am. _I'm_ gonna witness the massacre. Hell- I'll probably end up being a casualty! I hope you're happy."

"Hey, I'll have you know Xavier invited us to the party too. Be happy, we'll both die martyrs."

"Jeez, if only the Professor knew what you just started," Rogue sighed.

"I didn't start anything," Wanda protested and paused a moment. "I may just have added kindling to the dying entertainment fire."

"How cute, a fire reference," Rogue countered sweetly. "Speakin' of which, I take it you took up the invitation to party at Mutant Manor?"

Wanda shrugged, trying to act blasé as she fingered the accessories on the wall. "Hey, who can pass up free food?"

"Mmhm. Is that his nickname now?"

"Oh hush. I'm keeping your ass from walking into the light." She rummaged around the little hat bin.

"You do realize that means you'll have to dress up too, right?"

"Oh, is that what you do on Halloween? Drats," Wanda snapped her fingers in fake ignorance. "It just so happens I already know what I'm going to be."

"And what's that gonna be?"

"A witch," she shrugged, reaching deep into the bin and unearthed a small headband with a teeny, tiny, black witch hat. She placed it on her head. "Isn't it just so adorbs?" her voice squealed.

Rogue crinkled her nose at the obvious Jubilee reference. "How original."

"Oh hush. Let me have my traditional fun."

"Broomstick too?"

"Probably. Although I just realized we don't actually own a broom. It's a bit disturbing."

"You live with boys. It's expected."

"So they reminded me when I pointed it out."

"So let me get this right: traditional hat and broom, with… corsets, fishnets, and knee high boots, right?"

"Halloween by tradition is slutty."

"Classy," Rogue picked up a fallen costume packet. A Snooki costume, really? It was a sick, sad world, indeed.

"And now the question is- what are _you_ going to dress up as?"

Rogue smiled ruefully. "Maybe I'll follow you lead and be your traditional vampire."

And Wanda shook her head adamantly. "Sorry honey, but there's no such thing as a traditional vampire anymore- that is, unless you want to douse yourself in glitter."

Rogue grimaced. Wouldn't Kitty have a field day with that. "Damn you Twilight, ruinin' all classic, mythical lore."

"Don't you worry. There are plenty of whore-ish costumes to go around. The entire store is filled with them."

"Which is exactly why I can't shop here," Rogue blew a tuff of hair away from her face. "I mean, have you actually looked at these costumes? Skin _everywhere_."

"So you add some fishnets here and there. I doubt it'll take away from the costume."

Rogue sighed. "No, it's not that. It's just… why even bother? There's no point for me to try to… advertise, I guess. Why even attempt to look sexy?"

Wanda gave Rogue a long look. "Because you can. And it's just one day. And I really think you're over thinking this."

Rogue fingered the Hello Kitty ears Jubilee dropped earlier. "Yeah, I dunno. I just…"

"You wish you could get rid of your powers for one day, to enjoy the day like everyone else," Wanda finished simply.

She heaved another sigh. Was she that easy to read? "Pretty much. But I can't. So why bother?" She threw the ears down again.

Wanda shrugged, picking up the ears from the random hat bin. "You don't _have_ to be sluttified and show skin, you know. You could be something classy and fun."

And Rogue gave Wanda a sad smile. "I guess. It's just… everythin' that _looks_ fun is… so revealin'. I just don't want to have to settle for a sucky costume and be sad the entire night."

Wanda sighed. "Now who's sounding like they got hit with the sappy stick? I will beat it out of you, so help me," she warned playfully.

Rogue rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I'm over thinkin', I know."

Wanda put a set of bunny ears on Rogue's head. "Look, I know they're a big part of your life, but…" she offered a hesitant smile. "Don't let your powers ruin all your memories, okay?"

The same sentiment had popped up over the years, but less sensitively said. It wasn't a completely foreign thought either- it just wasn't easy to follow through with. The shadow of her powers clouded most of her thoughts and its effects were unshakeable at times.

Rogue let her eyes cast elsewhere and she gave a small lopsided smile. It was almost like Wanda was telling her to nicely man up. It was slightly refreshing. "Yeah, I guess. Still don't know what I'm gonna be."

"Don't worry. You still have two weeks to get your shit together," Wanda grinned cheekily, proud of her double entendre. "Now, want to go spread the sprinkles of sunshine and make Kitty the happiest kitty ever?" She plucked the Hello Kitty ears out of the headpiece bin.

"Dear Lord, say it ain' so…"

"Oh yes. The first ever Skanky Hello Kitty costume, worn by none other than Kitty herself."

Rogue smacked her head in disbelief. "There is no hope for the next generation."

Wanda cackled. "Don't worry. We won't live to see it, remember?"

* * *

**AN**: I've got a case of the Halloween excitement. Expect the next update on Halloween about Halloween, because I'm festive like that. Can anyone guess what I'm going to make Rogue or Remy? I'm still a little iffy on Remy, but I'm open to suggestions. I don't know why I decided to make Tabitha and Jubilee rivals, but it's turning out to be really fun. I'm also fiddling with making Rogue and Wanda a quasi Daria and Jane- you remember that dynamic duo of sarcastic fun? I love channeling them.

A couple fun things: anyone know where that Lady Gaga quote is from? Apparently it's a highly apropros tweet from Orlando Bloom. Second, if you didn't catch the reference for the title, it's from Antoine Dodson's "Bed Intruder" song. If you haven't watched it, you need to research that meme for shizzles. Third, I just rewatched Evo and noticed that Rogue has no corsets! Shame! I decided she needed one and yes, it will play a part soon. Anywho, thank you all who reviewed last chapter! And I hope everyone enjoyed the chapter- enjoyed it enough to read and review? Pretty please? I have no money, no job, and no experience; having reviews would be a nice pick-me-up. ;D


	13. Do Chains And Whips Excite You?

**Title: **The Wreckage

**Disclaimer: **I don't even own the rights to my soon to be college degrees and will not for many, many, many years… It's called a starving ex-student, and by the state of my fridge, I'm living the dream.

**Pairing:** Rogue and Remy

**Rating: **Teen/Mature

**Warnings:** Contains dark and adult themes

**Summary: **It's what happens when two sides collide. The explosion between what you want and what you need, what's right and what's wrong. It's the wreckage. And it could be so easy. ROMY.

* * *

**The Wreckage**

**Chapter Thirteen**

**Do Chains And Whips Excite You?**

* * *

"What do you mean you don't know what you're going to be yet? It's in _three days!_" Kitty screeched.

Rogue winced at the high pitched squeal. It may be mid-afternoon on a Friday, but she sure as hell didn't feel like listening to this at lunch.

"I'd like to think I've had more important things on my mind," Rogue uttered in response.

"Like what?" Kitty crossed her arms.

"Oh, I dunno, how 'bout tryin' to catch up with school so I can get out of this place with my dignity intact by the end of the year?"

"Well, that's a lame excuse," Kitty snorted.

Rogue narrowed her eyes. "Explain to me why wantin' to get my high school diploma is a lame excuse."

"That's _always_ your excuse. We all _know_ you're a smarty-pants, smarty-pants," Kitty stuck her tongue out.

"Yeah, we're beginning to think you just don't want to be bothered," Jubilee answered matter-of-factly.

"Hmm, what a novel idea," Rogue mused. "Any chance it would still work?"

"Nope, we're on to you. Now we'll be all up in yo bidness."

"What a change."

"And _because_ you waited so long," Kitty shot up, suddenly inspired, "We're going to be your costume committee!"

Rogue groaned in her hands and eye-pleaded with Wanda to help her out.

"Sorry, but even I still don't get why it's taken you this long," was Wanda's response.

"You're merciless," Rogue glared.

"Hey, you brought this on yourself. We _did _all go costume shopping," she shrugged, not looking apologetic at all. "Would it have been so hard to just point and say 'I choose you, Pikachu'?"

"Jesus! We _had_ this conversation, remember?"

"Yes, yes, a Sexy Rogue is a 'Dangerous' Rogue, blah, blah, blah. Has it ever occurred to you that a little danger never hurt anyone?"

"I'll show you hurt, damn traitor." Rogue muttered.

"You know, I would have thought you'd have been all over the Halloween spirit, to be honest," Jubilee shrugged.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Rogue started fiddling with her water bottle and gave a warning glare to Jubilee. She had good aim with water bottles, so she had been told.

"Halloween is the 'freaks come out at night' holiday. You seem to be the type to harbor some crazy, fetishy, even-darker-than-the-dark-side-of-the-moon dark side that can only be released on Halloween."

And before Rogue could respond, Wanda turned and gave Jubilee the "are you serious" face. "Jubilation Lee, the girl didn't even own a corset. What makes you think she'll become Mistress Rogue once the clock chimes twelve?"

Jubilee shrugged. "I mean, no offense or anything, Rogue, but I'm guessing your powers _have_ to be giving you some kind of blue balls. Does it not make psychological sense that she develop some kind of fetish thing?"

Rogue narrowed her eyes. "You're channelin' Tabitha and if you don't stop-" but she was completely ignored.

"Oh yeah," Kitty clapped her hands excitedly. "Kinda like Rihanna's music videos fetish freaky? That stuff is hot."

"She does have psychologically appealing videos," Wanda nodded appreciatively.

"It's like I'm not even here," Rogue threw her hands up and spoke to the sky.

"And she has some killer boots," Kitty pointed out.

"And since she can't touch, why _not_ get all freaky sadomasochist? The girl has got to get hers sometimes. Hell, I bet she gets off just being mean to someone," Jubilee nodded eagerly.

"I guess S&M does seem reasonable," Wanda examined Rogue pensively. "But we can't forget the dominance part. I mean, your uniforms practically scream dominatrix."

"Don't they just? I keep trying to tell her to switch her boots for stilettos but she _just won't listen_. I just totally know she could wipe out opponents just by looking super dominatrix hot if she wore heels."

And Rogue began to pinch herself. Really, _was_ she still dreaming? Was she even at school or did she send herself into a psyche induced coma in a DR session? Her friends were talking about her non-existant substitute sex life- and that was definitely a subject her psyches had pow-wowed on in her head many times before.

"This can't be happening," she muttered into her hands.

"You know, I'm thinking deep down, she really is all for fetish fashion. She is adamantly gothy."

"But not regular black leather fetish fashion. Like Rihanna S&M fetish. Bright colors, crazy hair- everything _but_ black," Kitty accused.

"This requires further investigation. Her dark and scary cover is deceiving and it must be blown. Ninja Kitty, do you accept?"

"I have no choice."

"Dear God, I'm gonna kill someone."

"Maybe _that's_ why she's always saying she has 'work to catch up on'. Maybe she's in on some online fetish group getting her jollies. It all makes perfect sense," Wanda snapped her fingers mischievously at Rogue. "Sneaky, sneaky, but we're on to you now."

And before Rogue could strangle someone, Jubilee turned to her and rested her hand lightly on Rogue's arm with a straight and serious face. "Rogue... I just have one question for you."

And Rogue glared like she could set things on fire.

"Do… do chains and whips excite you?"

Not even Kitty was fast enough to phase Jubilee safely out of water bottle harm's way.

"Na-na-na, come on!"

* * *

Wolverine took a pause in his… "corrective lecture" (rant session) and looked around. "Got questions?"

And with furrowed brows, Nightcrawler looked around and hesitantly raised his hand. Rogue understood the confused look he sent her way. What _was_ the point of today? "Uh… Mr. Logan. What exactly are we doing today?"

"Capture the flag."

A few of the younger kids clamored in excitement. Rogue shook her head. Did the Wolverine not just spend fifteen minutes complaining about something? Did they honestly think that with Wolverine's recent visible increase in homicidal tendencies that this "game" would be fun?

"Cool, man! Where are the flags? And what are the teams?" Iceman, oh Iceman… she chuckled to herself.

Wolverine snorted in amusement and shook his head. "Hold yer horses, Popsicle. Here's the flag." He dangled a single red flag and grinned. Everyone groaned, clearly disappointed in his purposeful ambiguity. He liked to dangle fun in their faces way too much. "And teams? Well, that's for you to decide."

Was this… was this a silver lining?

No.

There was a catch.

There was _always_ a catch.

"What's the catch?" Gambit lazily drawled.

And Wolverine slowly looked at Gambit. And gave him a sadistic smile.

"I'm glad you asked, Cajun. Let's just say, today will be… a pop quiz to see if you've been paying attention these last few weeks. Nightcrawler!"

Nightcrawler visibly twitched as he raised a furry blue hand. "Ja?"

Wolverine tossed him the flag and yanked his finger down to the Danger Room. "See that hanging rope?

Nightcrawler gulped nervously. "Ja?"

"Port it and hang the flag on it."

Simultaneous groans and head slaps filled the air. Nightcrawler reluctantly ported out and ported back in. The dread of the next hour was apparent even in his tail.

"You tie it tight?"

"Ja…"

"Good. Rules." Wolverine crossed his arms smugly. "Red, no flying or mind grabbing. Elf, no porting more than two feet. Everyone else…just be smart about how you use yer powers."

"Teams?" Iceman piped up, still hopeful.

Wolverine chuckled. "Sure, why not? Whatever makes you feel better."

This didn't sound promising.

"Yer goal is to capture the flag. You get thirty minutes on the clock. The person or team that captures the flag or lasts all thirty minutes gets the day after Halloween off." He ended his pitch with a sadistic smirk.

Rogue scoffed. It sounded like a nice deal… but that face…

"Can we take out other teams?"

"You can try. But you'll probably want to look out for yourself first." Logan walked over the controls and typed something in. "I'd suggest looking before you leap." One last button and as the Danger Room whirled to life, the session didn't _look_ promising either.

The room filled with gasps and groans. Never… had there been so many spinning, shooting, and electrified _sharp_ things dancing around the room. And never had there been so many spinning, shooting, and electrified sharp things dancing around the _flag_.

Dear sweet Jesus, Rogue felt all the energy she had drain from her body in one chilling wave. It was almost nauseating watching everything twirl around.

"You know what to work on and I want it fixed today." Wolverine crossed his arms and glared at all of them. "And you'll want to fix it today because, trust me- you _won't_ want to have to do this again the day after Halloween," he threatened nicely. "And if you want this session to only last thirty minutes, you're going to want to stay in at least half of the time."

There were dark, dark times ahead.

"Forge and I wish you good luck. Simulation starts in two minutes."

And as they shuffled down the stairs and hallway towards the Danger Room entrance, it was apparent what the teams were going to be.

"I call Gambit!" Boom-Boom and Jubilee shrieked in unison. "No way! He's mine!"

It was a diaglogue she had heard too often the last two months and she knew the risks of being near the crossfire. And as Rogue started to back away from the face off, she heard a frustrated groan from behind her that made her slow her death march. "_Dieu_, why me?"

Rogue felt a smirk grow on her face. While it had only been a passing thought beforehand, she had vaguely sensed he was avoiding the girls and their elaborate plans to… woo him. Be that as it may, now she was almost certain that the infamous Cajun Casanova was utterly annoyed with the attention he was getting from the girls. 'Serves him right, leadin' these girls on all the time.' The smirk grew into a plotting smile. Didn't she still owe him from almost being decapitated a while ago?

"Somethin' wrong?" she turned around, causally raising her eyebrows. Her casual question shouldn't make him get cocky-defensive, right?

But his poker face was already set. "_Non_, course not."

And of course it would. They weren't _that_ close in their whatever-it-was friendship-thing. Which makes her getting revenge that much more fun. She let herself get into a more playful mode without feeling bad.

"I'm glad," she murmured, stepping close enough to lightly touch his arm. She felt a coy, seductive (as seductive as she could make it, in any case) smile play at her lips and she leaned up to his height. "Question," she breathed into his ear, grasping his arm tighter. "How do you feel about… threesomes?"

Gambit's poker face faltered into mischievous interest and Rogue felt his hand lightly caress and grab her waist. "Why, _chérie,_" his eyes slightly sparked as they caught hers intensely, drawing her closer. "I thought you'd never ask."

She continued her coy smile as she sunk back down to her own height. "That's good to hear." And she gripped the fabric of his trenchcoat securely and dragged him over to the squabbling girls before he could protest. Their shrieking at each other stopped the moment he was thrown in front of them.

"Ladies, ya'll don't have to fight. Gambit just told me he wants both of you on his team- that is, if ya'll wanna have the best chances of winnin'," she shrugged innocently.

It was too easy. Each girl took a quick second to stick their tongue out at each other before latching on one arm enthusiastically.

"Anything for you, sexy," Jubilee gushed.

"Yeah, baby," Boom-Boom winked. "And when we're done here, you and I can go finish bi-winning _upstairs_." Rogue was impressed with herself for not gagging this time.

And as the doors opened and the thirty second countdown began, Gambit led the girls to the forefront of the pack- not before giving Rogue a dark, unamused look. She gave him a proud smirk and just raised her eyebrows. While she wouldn't be around to watch her revenge unfold, his glare justified her revenge.

"Poor guy," Shadowcat shook her head, finally popping up. "He's just asking for World War 3."

"More chance for us, I guess," Nightcrawler smiled uneasily.

"Let's hope," Rogue sighed, stretching out her legs and arms, pre-cracking her neck and back. She knew Wolverine and more importantly knew that if he had his way, this session was going to hurt for days.

* * *

Rogue had learned early on to ignore the occasional screams and wails that filled in the sound gaps in the Danger Room. She was hoping it was just filler noise added in for distraction, but more times than not, after each yell/moan was followed with Wolverine calling a name out of the session. She couldn't be bothered to count downed teammates or to look hopefully up at the timer displayed.

All she knew was that Wolverine was _lying_ about only a thirty minute session. This felt like it had lasted a week at least.

"Phase!" she hissed, holding on to Shadowcat's arm as yet another cannon ball rocketed towards them. She narrowly felt the safety of familiar weightless vaporization turn on as the ball passed through her abdomen.

"Rogue-" Shadowcat gasped for air, almost hunched over as Rogue tried to keep them moving forward. Rogue curled backwards before a (hopefully rubber) throwing star chopped her nose off.

"What?" Rogue spat through gritted teeth.

"Rogue, I can't," she heaved another breath again. "I can't phase anymore… So… tired!"

Rogue ignored her. Shadowcat may be smart but she really did have the endurance of an asthmatic nerd sometimes. "Then don't phase- dodge!" Rogue nearly shrieked.

Shadowcat yelped and hopped backwards from a flinging lightning bolt. "Jesus, it _is_ like World War 3 in here!"

And Rogue threw herself into a back handspring as a series of throwing stars shot at her. "Hurry up! We're gonna rush it!" Rogue landed low and darted back into Shadowcat's direction. Swooping down low, she grabbed Shadowcat's arm and dragged her off towards the flag.

"But I can't!" Shadowcat wailed, struggling to keep up with Rogue. It had been a few minutes since they were able to make significant progress clearing the Danger Room. By a quick estimation, they hadn't even reached the middle.

"Save your breath and- duck!" Rogue flung herself and Shadowcat forward and dove into the ground.

"Oh my gosh, I think I'm totally going to pass out!"

"Don't pass out! Focus!" Rogue hissed, narrowly stopping them from walking into a (hopefully holographic, but the heat felt real enough) sudden wall of fire. "Stop talkin' and start breathin'! Now _come on!_"

And as they tried to sprint forwards, they entered a somewhat empty area carelessly. As Rogue made it through faster, she felt one of her feet sink lower into the ground. Looking down, she realized she activated some kind of… button.

"Oh _shit_," she hissed as the arena turned into a firing squad- pinning them in the middle of it.

"Watch out!" Shadowcat screeched, diving forward and pushing Rogue down. Shadowcat hit the ground hard and groaned.

"Screw this," Rogue heard Shadowcat mutter. And as Shadowcat began to get up, she gave Rogue a weary, secretive smile- and pressed her hand against Rogue's face quickly.

The transfer of powers and the plan was quick.

'_I won't make it- but you can!'_ the ever cheerful Shadowcat psyche persuaded Rogue. And Rogue shot off, using the last bits of phasing Shadowcat gave to her to further "the both of them" by dropping Shadowcat's "totally dead weight." She couldn't look back, but she heard and smelt brimstone- she knew Nightcrawler had ported her out of the Danger Room.

"Ten minutes remaining," came Wolverine's low growl.

"_Fuck! Are you kiddin' me?_" Rogue growled back. He _had to be lying_.

And the way the floors jerked underneath her, she would bet her meager savings that Wolverine heard her unfortunate choice of words and decided this was easiest and most effective way to remind her to watch her language. The small square she quickly committed herself too shot up in the air and suddenly, she was up close and personal with ceiling guns and canons.

"Oh hell," she muttered before backflipping and taking a flying dive off the raised platform. Flashes of a younger Kitty on a swim team blurred her vision and she quickly tried to push the memories away and focus on plummeting to her possible death. She held her breath and with the last of Shadowcat' phasing powers, dove headfirst into the floor below.

God, she would have hated to think of what would have happened to her had she not had a smidge of Shadowcat's powers still in reserve.

Rogue willed herself to rush up to meet the surface before her air and abilities wore out and she was stuck forever. She crawled out of the floor and took a quick gasp of air- and was grabbed by her arms and dragged to her feet.

"Impressive technique, _chérie_. But alas, no rest for the weary," Gambit winked as he pulled her towards a thick, thick pillared hallway entrance and pressed up against her.

"What the heck do you think-" she started when he clamped a hand over her mouth.

"Hush. It's quiet time now," he murmured almost inaudibly in her ear, his minty breath giving her small shivers. The shooting and impaling had stopped at this junction, but it was dark and eerily still. Gambit pointed to microphones imbedded in the pillars and walls and the detection lasers shooting faintly across the hallway. Then he pointed further on- at the end of the long hallway was an opening- it was the platform for the death trap surrounding the red flag.

Rogue mouthed a swear word- and Gambit only smirked. She forced herself to look away before she smacked him. Instead, she began to slink forward; this was just another thing to tackle and damn Wolverine if she failed now.

But before she could get to bending for the first laser, Gambit pulled her back- the lasers completely reset and were now firing in different directions- completely messing up her former plan.

"You gonna play nice now?" he lowly rumbled in her ears. More shivers coursed down her spine- she just wasn't _used _to having someone so close. "I think we can help each other, _hein_?" He pointed back to the death trap surrounding the flag and immediately saw what he was saying.

In the distance, she could see there were two ways to get the dangling flag. First, by sheer force and explosions. Second, by the activating the two "off" buttons outside of the death trap- the buttons that were on the exact opposite side of the death trap, a few feet apart. In other words the only way to smartly get this done _was_ by team work.

It was also apparent Wolverine and Forge didn't expect anyone to get that far.

"Five minutes."

Gambit held at his hand as a silent peace offering. And Rogue sighed. She wanted to finish this and had no choice. She reached out and shook his hand briefly, her gaze hopefully conveying a 'no funny business or you'll die' message. There was a tingling sensation when he gripped her; that's when she knew she was going to regret it.

Reaching into his coat, he pulled out his bo-staff and raised it high above his head. A quick pinch of his fingers and the ends shot out and embedded themselves into the walls above the lasers. Internally, she was impressed. Externally, she rolled her eyes. Whenever she blew up his old one and made him get a new bo-staff, it always had a fancy new feature.

He lifted himself up and motioned towards a button on it, and then zipped away clear over the lasers and on the other side. She rolled her eyes again. It couldn't be _that_ easy.

He launched the bo-staff back at her and she climbed on, waiting for the lasers to change again.

And they did.

They changed to block her zip-line path exactly.

She was almost reduced to stomping her foot, but instead flung the bo-staff back at him. She really was going to have to resort to gymnastics. She waited impatiently for the next laser change and began twisting herself through, balancing on one foot, curling her back into a back handspring and dropped to the floor just in time for the next change. She kneeled up and tried to walk over the next laser- and set off the alarms by stepping on a near invisible laser that was just barely resting millimeters off the ground.

"_Shit_," she hissed, dodging the rubber bullets that seemed to shoot from any and all wall surrounding her.

"Rogue! Jump!"

Gambit flung his half of the bo-staff towards her and she jumped up to wrap her legs around it. Rogue kicked off against the wall to fly faster towards Gambit. She flew and didn't stop as she let go and knocked him over trying to stop herself.

"Guess your thievin' skills need work," he mocked.

"Sorry I wasn't trained to be_ like a freakin' ninja_," Rogue hissed through gritted teeth.

"And last I checked, neither was I. Now let's _go._" He grabbed her arm and dragged her towards the death trap entrance.

Rogue stumbled a bit when she saw the massiveness of the swirling sphere around the little red flag. It had to be at least twenty feet above their head and dangerous as fuck.

"Buttons!" Gambit yelled her as they ran behind the huge, spinning sphere of death and positioned themselves to pound the button in.

Gambit raised his fingers and counted off. On three, they pressed the button.

And ran back towards the entrance as it began to spark and crackle.

They heard the two disabling buttons completely explode behind them, along with their previous plan. It was apparent they were purposefully and completely mislead by the "off" sign. The floors vibrated below them and they left a trail of opening walls and emerging guns and lasers. Right as they were about to slide back into the lasered hallway, it completely sealed itself in metal.

They were trapped

"Two minutes. Have fun."

Wolverine never said "fun" and meant it.

They stayed frozen, taking a moment to look at each other in apprehension as the motion-sensing guns began to take aim.

"You trust me?" Gambit spoke low.

"Don't think I have a choice if I wanna win," she muttered back. Did he just crack a smile? At a time like this, really?

"And that's good to hear, _chérie,_" he replied simply.

And a split second later, Gambit yanked Rogue closer and kissed her.

* * *

**Authors Note: **Bwhahahahahah. This is the trick part of Halloween. Review if you want the treat part!


	14. Ever Want To Be A Cheerleader?

**Title: **The Wreckage

**Disclaimer: **I don't even own the rights to my soon to be college degrees and will not for many, many, many years… It's called a starving ex-student, and by the state of my fridge, I'm living the dream.

**Pairing:** Rogue and Remy

**Rating: **Teen/Mature

**Warnings:** Contains dark and adult themes

**Summary: **It's what happens when two sides collide. The explosion between what you want and what you need, what's right and what's wrong. It's the wreckage. And it could be so easy. ROMY.

* * *

**The Wreckage**

**Chapter Fourteen**

**Ever Want To Be A Cheerleader?**

* * *

The effects were immediate; like the quick and jarring jolt of electricity from a power outlet, Rogue felt like someone had just directly injected caffeine into her heart.

And _no_, it wasn't because Gambit was attempting to stick his tongue in her mouth. She shoved him off right as she felt him and his tongue get a little too caught up in his "battle plan".

Because that's how Psyche Gambit was justifying it to her. He had a plan and it involved both of them with his powers. And _of course_, the _only_ way to transfer this plan was mouth-to-mouth- or so he insisted. If she didn't feel so hyped up with his powers and the adrenaline of almost dying and being so close to winning, she would wail on him like a honey badger on a king cobra.

Lithely, she shed her gloves and Real Gambit grinned devilishly as he slipped a pack of cards to her. God, when they were done with this…

"_Bien?_" He didn't wait for an answer as he sprinted off towards his half of the dome and began flinging explosions.

"I'm gonna kill you, Cajun!" she hollered, following his lead and taking aim on her side of the dome.

For having constantly been on a low power level for the last god-knows-how-long, feeling Gambit's high kinetic buzz was unsettling. Had she not known that it was his mutation, she'd be lying in her room having a panic attack because she was having a heart attack. The amount of energy coursing through her limbs was so foreign- was this how Gambit felt _all the time?_ No _wonder_ he never seemed able to keep still. The guy was on a constant caffeine rush.

Rogue swallowed back everything else that dribbled in during his… "plan transfer" and tried to focus on charging and throwing. The first few cards barely made the mark on destroying the wall guns. Looking back on his progress, he had almost finished clearing his side and was starting to work on hers. That irked her and by Psyche Gambit's insistence, she knew there was no other choice but to let his psyche assist her.

"One minute left."

If she thought the elevated jitters felt weird, it was nowhere near disconcerting as letting him share the forefront of her mind. While she had control of her body, she felt as though her limbs were possessed: her arms were shooting out charged cards on target _precisely_, like she had done this all her life.

The charge burned brighter and brighter as if he was removing all inhibitions she formerly had about blowing things up. The thrum felt almost familiar and coupled with the rhythmic flicking her of her wrists, she demolished her side in no time.

Catching each other's intense glare, it was time to end this and demolish the spinning death trap surrounding the flag. Through the cracks in the spinning blade, she could see him hold a hand like he was casually playing poker. She had no idea what he was doing, but Psyche Gambit did. Her hands followed suit and fanned out a hand to match his. The cards glowed with such a bright intensity that she squinted her eyes. With a seemingly slow-motion sweep of her hands, the cards flung high into the air and she _willed_ them to hit the base that connected the blades to the ceiling.

The resulting explosion jarred the blades off the ceiling and Rogue had to jump away to avoid getting pinned under the huge metal blade. With the same sleight of hand, they demolished the circle of lasers surrounding the flag and ran towards the middle. With the sounds of shooting guns and cannons and throwing stars now in the background, it was deathly quiet in the death dome.

"Ten seconds."

And the countdown began.

They rushed towards the middle and looked up at the flag above their reach.

"Think you could aim a card?" she asked breathlessly.

Gambit shook his head and grinned cheekily. "No time. Ever want to be a cheerleader?"

"Five."

"Lord, I hate you," she glared, knowing exactly what he wanted her to do.

"Four."

She scooted back a few feet and ran towards him.

"Three."

Gambit's hands found their way to her waist as he guided her upwards. Rogue's foot landed solidly on his bent and she jumped up, keeping her legs bent. His hands slid up under her feet and he shot her up farther into the air.

"Two."

She extended her hand and grasped at the red flag by the fingertips and yanked as hard as she could before feeling the familiar sensation of falling back down. If he didn't catch her…

"One."

Falling into his hard arms with almost the same amount of grace as an experienced cheerleader, she shot her hand up and waived the little red flag in the air.

"Session over."

"Bravo," he murmured in her ear, the stupid smirk plastered on his face. "We could definitely do some damage, you and I."

The danger room began to clear up, holograms disappearing and dead guns screeching into their hiding places.

"Put me down, you goddamn perv." She elbowed him and rolled herself out of his grip and took a second to catch her breath. There had been way too many near death experiences and trusting and "plan transfers" in this session than necessary. The adrenaline of kicking ass was slowly wearing off and all she was left with was the remnants of his powers and thoughts and…and now he was going to pay.

"You."She stabbed her finger into hard chest and moved into him. "Are." The adrenaline was being replaced with anger and rage and homicidal tendencies. "So." Before she could reach her arm back and punch his face, Logan's voice barked over the intercom.

"Get yer asses up here!"

Gambit winked at her- _fucking winked at her!_- before casually slinging his arm over her shoulder and guiding her back to the Danger Room exit.

"No worries, _chérie_, we can celebrate later."

"If you mean kill and make gumbo out of your pieces for dinner, then yes." She slapped his arm off of her shoulders.

"Sounds delicious," he drawled, oddly sounding content. "But until then, you're gonna need these." He whipped out a pair of sunglasses and passed it to her. She immediately halted.

And clenched her fists. "Why. Do. I. Need. These?"

He faked a pensive look before answering. "Let's just say, Halloween came early and you got some scary peepers."

Slipping on the glasses, it was hard to control her breathing as she marched into the observation deck. She was mad. At Logan, at Gambit, at Kitty, at _everyone_. And now she had to go upstairs and face them all calmly with _his_ devil eyes, right after they all just saw her get conned into sucking face with Mr. Drop-Your-Panties-So-We-Can-Have-A-Threesome.

The doors slid open and revealed a sullen, exhausted group lying on the floor; even more sullen and brooding were Jubilee and Tabitha. Jubilee wouldn't look at Rogue and Tabitha gave her a dark, yet haughtily glare. Kitty was lying on the floor, barely propped up with an "I can't and won't move for you" facial expression. Rogue only became a little less angry at Kitty- only because she did shamelessly make Kitty overexert herself today.

She kept a straight and unemotional face as she made herself as unobtrusive as possible on the back wall. She didn't care to look at Gambit; she knew he was looking like the cat that got the cream. Logan gave them a brief glance before continuing on with his rant.

"Those of you that were out the first fifteen minutes, get back out there and give me fifteen laps."

The younger X-Men shuffled down to the Danger Room; Tabitha didn't leave without giving Rogue a long "you just wait" look. Goody. Jubilee still didn't make eye contact.

"Everyone who lasted twenty minutes, get back out there and give me five laps."

More X-Men shuffled out; on the floor still, Kitty groaned a little and was attempting to crawl to the entrance. Rogue felt her face flush with guilt. Left was only Jean, Cyclops, Bobby, and surprisingly Jamie.

"Half-pint, don't worry about it. Go lay down."

Kitty gave a pathetic thumb up and laid back down.

"In yer _room_, Half-pint."

She made a gurgled groan as her finger twitched towards the entrance again.

"Rogue. Gambit. Stay. Everyone else is free to go." Everyone darted off before Logan could change his mind. "And someone better help Half-pint!" He hollered after them. A few seconds later, four Jamies came back and toted a weak Kitty back to her room.

And Logan gazed back at them.

"Impressive stunts you two pulled back there. Had I know you two would have teamed up, I would have changed a few things." His tone was sarcastic and disapproving with only a sprinkle of flattery.

"Gambit," he sounded each syllable out slowly. "You got lucky bringing yer staff. Next time I see it used for anything other than weapons sparing, I'm taking it fer keeps."

"And if you can, then finders-keepers," Gambit shrugged.

Logan narrowed his eyes and clenched his fists harder. It was obvious he was trying to control his anger towards him. "And the next time you decide to do or say anything more than PG in there to _anyone_, I will make sure you are permanently reduced to acting like a five year old. Got it?"

"Now, we talkin' invasive or-" he started before Rogue elbowed him hard in the gut.

And that brought back the attention to Rogue.

"And Rogue."

She tried looking as neutral as possible. She was mad at him. This session was completely uncalled for and she was angry she had to resort to teaming up with _him_.

"I told you what you needed to fix and you completely ignored it."

She narrowed her eyes behind the glasses. "And yet I still managed to get the flag," she replied shortly. She held her head up solidly with a serious, unaffected face. Never show fear in the face of your enemies; he had taught her that.

"That's not the _point_ and you know it," he almost snarled. "You clearly refused to think about using yer powers and instead were _forced_ to use them- _twice_."

"You said to be smart about usin' them. So I was. _And I didn't use them_," she spat through gritted teeth. "I didn't _have_ to use them and neither did _they_. Kitty decided to give up and _he _needed an easy out from his goddamn problems."

"And not using yer powers isn't an easy out from yer problems?"

And she was absolutely seeing red.

"You'll never get control if you don't use them and you know that, so fix it or stop complaining."

Her fists were shaking as she stormed away from the potential scene of the crime. She was furious. How dare he say that to her after she kicked some major ass? How dare he say that to her _at all?_ Her powers and her training were not some kind of convenient entertainment trick. Her powers _hurt_ herself and others and they want her to constantly use it even though she's spent so much painstakingly time learning to get around in life _without_ having to use them? To not kill people or herself? She pounded the metal hallway in anger.

"Rogue- wait." She heard Gambit voice follow behind her and she threw him the finger.

"Fuck you_,_" she spat back, reaching the elevator and stabbing the UP button. The doors opened and she stepped in, quickly trying to close the door before he could catch up. Gambit ran and caught the door with his bo-staff. He jimmied it open and stepped inside.

"Look, Rogue, I'm sorry-"

"Save it. I don't wanna hear it." She slammed buttons on the elevator and tapped her foot impatiently as it rose.

"Well, that's too bad, cuz you're gonna," he replied simply, using his staff to hold the elevator stop button.

She glared at him angrily through the sunglasses. "What?" she demanded sharply.

"Look," he looked down at her seriously. "When I saw you phasin', I thought you were okay with usin' your powers. I didn't mean to force you. It seemed like the only option at the time."

She crossed her arms. "You're tellin' me the crafty Gambit couldn't think of anythin' else? Do you honestly expect me to believe that?"

"You said you trusted me and it worked. You gotta admit, it was a good plan," he defended.

Rogue resisted the urge to pummel him. "Oh really? Mouth-to-mouth was a good plan?" she glowered.

And his always lurking smirk crept onto his face. "I dunno 'bout you, but I sure as hell thought so."

And she did start to whack him.

"Are you _kiddin' _me? Now I got two hellcats plannin' _my_ demise because _you_ couldn't touch me like a _normal_ person?" she shrieked.

_Now _he looked a little, _tiny_ bit guilty.

"Okay, well, I didn't really think 'bout that part," he caught her hands from punching him more.

"Like I believe that! How convenient- you get to man-handle me _and_ get them off your back at the same time. Who would pass up that opportunity," she sneered.

His face fell sharply and he gave her a dark look. It was thrilling; she was really aching to hit nerves now. "That's _not_ what it was about."

"So what then? Were you were just gettin' me back for settin' you up with them? Is that it? Because at the very least, you deserved that."

"No," he narrowed his eyes. "And I dunno what _I_ did to deserve that, either."

She threw her hands in the air. She really didn't think he was that dense, but maybe he was. "How about cuz your _flirtin'_ has two of my friends fightin' over _you_ and _I'm _the onegettin' caught in the crossfire!"

"Well, I don't _mean_ for you to get stuck in the middle," he rolled his eyes impatiently.

"And it's obvious you sure don't _mean_ to man up to the fact you're leadin' both of them on!"

Gambit narrowed his eyes and glowered darkly. "Says the girl who seduced me into teamin' with them."

She glared at him back. She could and would do him one better. "Says the guy who'd act as my friend and teammate to get what he wants."

One long stride and he had her pinned against the wall, glaring something dangerously fierce. "I thought we were passed that, but if you wanna see if I got some kind of hidden agenda, go for it," he almost snarled, slamming his hands against the metal walls.

And she shoved him back with all the force she could muster and yanked off the sun glasses. The lights inside the elevator burned her eyes and she knew that his eyes were still there.

"You think this is some kinda convenient parlor trick?" she pointed to her eyes. "Do you think I particularly _enjoy_ feelin' like my _mind_ is gettin' raped every time I touch someone? Or that I enjoy wakin' up with everyone's nightmares and losin' control over my damn body? Bein' able to take your mind ain't exactly a picnic, Gambit," she spat, shoving him again for good measure before slamming a fist on the start button on the elevator. She was so over this conversation.

"Y'know," he started low. "You ain't the only one who's had problems with their powers, but you are the first one I've seen who refuses to deal with it."

"Thanks, Logan. Anymore helpful advice?" she spat as the elevator doors opened.

"Yeah, actually," he straightened up and composed his poker face. "I suggest you try findin' the silver linin' in all this or else you're in for one unhappy life."

* * *

His words plagued her for the rest of that weekend.

Actually, a lot of what happened during that session plagued her that weekend: Logan's harsh words, Remy's biting comment, Kitty's excitement, Wanda's texting to inquire about Kitty's excitement, Jubilee and Tabitha's attempts at death glares…

But of course, she couldn't hide away in her room all weekend like she wanted to. Oh no. Because that would be proving them right- that she was "hiding" or "complaining" or "making up excuses" from her problems. Jesus, when did everyone decide to meet up and tell her what was wrong with living her life? She was doing the best she could with the situation without vomiting rainbows and unicorns.

So she was force to try and uphold her "normal" presence around everyone. It was frustrating though; she seemed to quiet rooms whenever she walked in. It made it difficult to pretend nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

Or maybe she was just imagining things.

Just like she was imagining the near empty lunch table she was condemned to.

And Jubilee's sullen face and Tabitha's plotting, smug glares sitting with an uncomfortable looking Brotherhood and an apologetic Kitty at a table across the quad.

"So no costume ideas yet? Have they really given up on you?" Wanda mused, biting a carrot.

Rogue sighed into her arms at the lunch table. "Things got a little… crazy over the weekend."

It was painfully obvious Wanda was fighting a knowing smile. "Yeah, Kitty mentioned things got a little crazy, but she never really said what happened…"

If she had the energy, she would have swatted Wanda. "Oh hush. I know she told you. That girl could send a rocket to the next galaxy on just gossip fuel alone."

Wanda scoffed. "You know, just because I heard it from Rocket Power over there doesn't mean I wouldn't mind hearing the juicy details straight from the launch pad's mouth."

"How to sum this up?" Rogue started sweetly. "The moron kissed me because he's an opportunistic ass; Logan called me a coward; Jubilee and Tabitha think I'm out to 'steal their man'; and Kit's exaggeratin'. About everythin'."

"Oh, so you _didn't_ get into an apocalyptic catfight that left Jubes and Tabitha completely shattered and heartbroken about their loss and claim Remy as your eternal man-slave?"

"That girl," Rogue rolled her eyes. "And I _tried_ to tell her what really happened, too…"

"Wait- did Logan actually call you a coward?"

Rogue exhaled noisily. "Basically. He, just like everyone else, thinks I'm runnin' away from my powers. Which I'm not- I just don't like usin' them," she scowled.

Wanda shrugged. "Well, when you get all defensive like that…"

"Well, I ain't gonna be Miss Mary Sunshine 'bout it, that's for damn sure!"

"I can see that," Wanda mused. "They weren't always this bad, right?"

Rogue made a face. "No… but I dunno. I think they expect me to be all… _open_ about it, ya know? And sometimes I really just don't care to think about it."

"Yeah, you don't want to think about it and you get hostile when someone does mention it. You don't have constantly think about it but _maybe_ you could try easing up," Wanda shrugged.

"What do you mean, easing up?"

"Like, try removing yourself from… well, you and don't let it bother you as much- outwardly, of course," Wanda added on quickly. "Don't think I'm trying to change the wonderful dark realism that makes you _you_. That's Kitty's job."

And Rogue sighed. In any case, she really was at a loss on how to go about dealing with the comments about her and her powers now. Since her massive meltdown and apocalyptic absorbing spree (haa), it seemed as though everyone had quickly transitioned from a "pity Rogue because she has awful powers" phase to a "her powers are taboo and she'll kill you if you talk about them" phase. Or maybe she started the transition. But to be honest, she was _enjoying_ that phase. She wanted that phase to go on forever.

And yet _sometime_ during the last few months, some super secret memo was sent out to everyone but Rogue, marking the new stage of her life: the "suck it up and deal with it" phase. She didn't like this phase so far. In fact, she'd almost prefer to go on some crazy, psychotic power rampage again _just_ to return to the hush-hush phase.

And on most days, she wondered if it would happen regardless.

Rogue sighed again. "Yeah, maybe you're right," she agreed glumly. "Still won't solve the fact I don't wanna use my powers."

"Of course I'm right and of course it won't. But, if they see you _trying_ to, I don't know, smile, laugh, be around people, _stop making excuses when Kitty comes and visits me_, and maybe even," Wanda dramatically brought her hand to her chest, "go without gloves for a few minutes around other human beings. Maybe they'll back off a bit."

Rogue couldn't help but pouting. These were all things that put her on edge. "I know… it's just… ugh. So much work."

"But is it worth it?"

And Rogues mind drifted back to _his_ last comment. She was still angry at him and didn't want to justify anything he had said. But still…

She didn't want to live a sad and lonely life.

"Yeah, I guess," Rogue resigned. She knew she'd have to try harder to pretend everything was okay and it was probably for the best…

But it still didn't change the fact she was terrified of her powers.

And Wanda heaved a huge sigh. "Well, that's one issue down. Now you just need to figure out what you're going to dress up as tonight."

Rogue buried her head in her hands. If it wasn't one thing…

* * *

With only hours until the annual Institute celebration, Rogue shoved all other thoughts aside and focused on costume ideas. In the back of her head, she knew she had to _somehow_ give the impression she wasn't running from her powers, that she was okay with them and she wasn't weak and scared.

… And she knew how to do it.

… She was just scared.

Mulling over it until well after she got back to the Institute, she hesitantly called Wanda.

"I… think I have an idea for a costume. I just need… someone to tell me if it's stupid or not. As the last remainin' member of my costume committee… care to take a trip with me?"

* * *

And Rogue laid out her clothes and accessories on her bed and almost had a panic attack. There were safeguards in her costume, naturally, but… even without putting it on, just looking at it made her feel naked.

"I'm happy you rethought our conversation the other day," Wanda approved, gazing over Rogue's covered bed. "But you do realize this kind of falls under fetish tendencies, right?"

Rogue sighed. "Probably. But isn't that what Halloween's all about?"

"Touché," Wanda grinned, slapping latex gloves on.

Rogue looked down one more time and gulped.

"I guess it's time," she sighed, gathering her wits and her black lace corset. Wrapping it around quickly, she held her breath motionlessly as she let Wanda lace her up. Slipping on her own black silk gloves, she grabbed a small can of body paint, a paint brush, and another pair of latex gloves.

"This might take a while."

Wanda grinned, walking out the door. "I'm sure I'll find someone to entertain me."

Rogue slipped on her fuzzy robe and walked quickly and quietly to the boy's side. Quickly rapping on the door, she fidgeted nervously and almost ran back to the safety of her room. Piotr swung the door open right as she was about to turn back.

He looked slightly surprised and she smiled nervously. "Hey, um… do you got a few minutes to spare for a quick art project?" She raised the paint, brush, and gloves, hoping he'd understand what he was in for.

He nodded kindly and led her inside.

* * *

**AN: **Please, don't hate me. There's a perfectly valid excuse as to why this took so long. I'll give you the down low during the next chapter, which WILL be up tomorrow, even while late on the Halloween flvrs… But please find it in your hearts to review me? I was so happy with the response I got for the last chapter- it made it _really_ hard to _have_ to focus on the real world… Next chapter: expect some partying, partying (yeah!), fun fun fun fun…


	15. Hotter Than a PopTart

**Title: **The Wreckage

**Disclaimer: **I don't even own the rights to my soon to be college degrees and will not for many, many, many years… It's called a starving ex-student, and by the state of my fridge, I'm living the dream.

**Pairing:** Rogue and Remy

**Rating: **Teen/Mature

**Warnings:** Contains dark and adult themes

**Summary: **It's what happens when two sides collide. The explosion between what you want and what you need, what's right and what's wrong. It's the wreckage. And it could be so easy. ROMY.

* * *

**The Wreckage**

**Chapter Fifteen**

**Hotter Than a Pop-Tart Fresh Out of the Toaster**

* * *

"So… was this a horrible idea?" Rogue bit her lip. She didn't wait for Wanda's answer before she started tugging down at her incredibly tight and incredibly booty-short black skirt with a black mesh train annoyingly poofing out the back.

And Wanda slapped her hands away. "No touchy!"

The trigger word. It sent a new flurry of nervousness down her back. "Oh God, this _was_ a horrible idea," she groaned.

"Did I _say_ that?"

"You said 'no touchy' and that's kinda the issue behind it. _Not_ a good pun," Rogue snapped.

And Wanda just smiled as if she had taken classes from Kitty on how to happily ignore Rogue's misery and patted Rogue kindly on the head. "Now, now, dear. What did we say about being defensive?" she spoke as if kindly reprimanding a small, petulant child.

And Rogue tried to calm down and not smack Wanda. They had a history of a lightly violent relationship- that is, with using both of their powers and Rogue's martial arts, fighting usually came at a standstill. Wanda's powers were powerfully respectable in their own right.

"And for the record, this _definitely _works in your favor."

And Rogue adjusted her mesh headpiece again. "God, I dunno…"

"Then you need a second opinion."

Rogue wanted to hyperventilate. She wasn't _ready_ for more people to see her so… exposed. "Wanda, wait-"

But Wanda opened the door and hollered down the hallway. "KITTY!"

Though you could hear the pounding footsteps first, Kitty sprinted through the rooms in record time. And fell backwards and slightly phased into the floor when she saw Rogue.

"Hot dog on a stick," she breathed.

And Rogue fiddled with her barely elbow length gloves nervously. "Is it alright?"

"Rogue." Kitty stood up and grabbed Rogue by both arms, grave and unwavering. "I would go lesbian for you."

"Is… that a good thing?"

"As a man enthusiast, it is the best compliment I can think of," Kitty nodded seriously before breaking out in a giddy grin. "And aren't you totally glad I made you get that corset?"

Her anxiety began to decrease. A little. She gave as confident a smile as she could muster. "Yes, yes, Kit. Thank you. And you look really adorable too."

Kitty crinkled her cat nose happily as she twirled around in her short blue overall dress. "I know, right? I totally underestimated making my own costume and it was so freakin' hard to find a white and red stripped shirt. But it was totally worth it!" She adjusted her Hello Kitty ears in the mirror and wiped a small smudge off her eyeliner whiskers.

And the lights flickered ominously throughout the room. A few minutes later, the pounding of feet down the grand staircase could be felt. And Rogue groaned again.

"It's time!" Kitty clapped, reaching to grab Rogue's hand.

Rogue yanked away, hit with dreadful nerves. "Wait! I gotta… go to the bathroom real quick," she lied.

Wanda crossed her arms and gave her a look. "I told you to go before we dressed you up."

Rogue gave a weak smile and shrugged. "Nature calls."

Wanda and Kitty gave each other a long look.

"Fine," Wanda deadpanned.

"We'll let you make your own entrance," Kitty grinned deviously, grabbing Wanda and phasing them away.

Fuck.

And Rogue paced her room, trying to reassure herself that nothing disastrous would happen- that the most that would happen would be tripping and falling because these heels were almost beyond the realm of sanity. How the hell did Wanda convince her six inch black pumps were the way to go? She knew her hard boots had decreased feeling in her feet, but there was still _some_ feeling left.

One last look in the mirror and she felt horribly bare. Her arms and shoulders were essentially bare and her legs _looked_ bare, which was almost like being bare. And she was cold. But maybe that was from the nerves. _Why was she doing this to herself_?

'Because,' the ever present voices in her head reminded her, 'You need to pretend everything is okay and normal.'

And she stomped her heel. This _wasn't_ normal. She wasn't some insecure girl with body image problems. She was strong. She was willful and snarky and fiery and she had done all she could to protect herself and others from dying. She wanted to have fun and pretend she wasn't a soul-sucking vampire for one night. She maybe even wanted to be oogled a little and maybe get a reaction similar to Kitty's.

Rogue pinched her skin colored hosiery to make sure it was still there and adjusted her black garter belt one last time. She knew she'd be adjusting her excessive, draping black veil the entire night, but it couldn't be helped. Smalls steps. She checked her smoky eyes and applied another thin layer of ruby red lipstick before grabbing her small black rose bouquet and quietly slinking down the dark, deserted halls.

The Mansion had been somewhat decorated throughout the month but the eerie dim lighting made everything seem so… creepy. Like a "House on Haunted Hill" creepy. The party was limited to the Mansion's almost dance-hall sized parlor and she could hear the dance music clearly from top of the staircase. She gripped the banister hard and prayed no one would watch her possibly disastrous descent.

Rogue hesitated before the door. It sounded loud and crowded and unpleasant. There were so many other things she'd rather be doing than putting herself in potentially life threatening conditions, but she had to do this with poise or else this whole idea would be wasted. On the count of three, she tried to forget herself and channeled her inner seductress… and opened the door.

It was almost disappointing when nobody noticed the door opening. Then again the music was too loud and the lights dimly colorful. But then disappointment turned into internal self-consciousness as she sashayed across the room to her friends, dangling her bouquet carefully by her side. It was safe to say just walking (quite successfully and for that, she was proud) and eyeing sensually everyone she passed, the effects were noticeable.

And by the time she made it over to her friends, she could tell the conversations in the room had changed topics completely.

"Hello, boys," she smirked at Lance the Rock Star, Todd the Frog Prince, and the conservatively dress (thank god) Sumo Wrestler Fred. She was somewhat oddly satisfied by the dumbfounded looks on their faces and even gratified when Fred let his snacks tumble from his hands.

"H-h-hey, Rogue," Lance stuttered. "You look amazing."

"Thanks, sug," she winked. "You guys ain't lookin' too bad yourselves. Great costumes."

And Wanda slipped her arm through Rogue's and slowly dragged her away, fighting a grin. "May not have been a flashy entrance, but you definitely are a show stopper. Now it's time to stuff faces."

Rogue was puzzled by the quick lead away. "Already?"

And Wanda the Sexy Witch cackled appropriately. "Oh, my dear. This is my way of parading you around."

"Must you?"

"Oh yes. I'm not stopping until we get you a compliment from everyone here."

"You're makin' me talk to everyone? Jesus, it ain't like I'm runnin' for president or anythin'."

"Consider me the manager of your 'Get Off My Back' campaign."

Rogue continued her slow display, past the dance floor where most of the Institute was located, keeping a confident smirk and hip sway.

"And the next stop on our tour: the volunteer chaperone parents."

It was obvious they had been too consumed with drink pouring to see Rogue walk in, and Scott and Jean had let their delayed surprise plainly show. Scott subtly gaped, overfilling a cup and spilling all over the table. It was shameful what a boost of confidence that gave her, truly shameful.

"Wow, Rogue, you look amazing," Jean beamed. "Really, your costume- it's great. It really suits you."

"Yeah, Rogue," Scott looked like he may have swallowed. "Your costume- it's nice. And great detail on the tattoo, it looks awesome, like a real black widow that's about to bite your neck off."

And Rogue smiled and nodded graciously. "Thanks, Scott, but send all tattoo compliments to Piotr. It's his work."

"Y-yeah, will do," he stammered.

"You two look really nice too. Ariel and Eric, right?"

"Yeah," Jean motioned to her little Flounder stuffed animal. "I always wanted to be her as a kid, so I finally decided why not?"

"You pulled it off pretty well, Red," Wanda nodded. "But the real question is, can you sing?"

"I can warble- and no I won't."

And Rogue was near attacked from behind.

"_Mein schwester_?" a Court Jester Kurt flipped her around to examine her. "You're- you-what are you-" he stuttered, looking almost dismayed enough to pass out, when Sorceress Amanda slapped a hand over his gaping mouth and pulled him away from Rogue.

"Rogue, you look badass and if it wasn't for being your little brother, Kurt thinks so too," Amanda clarified.

Rogue laughed. She knew her outfit would be shocking, but not to this rewarding extent.

Kitty bounced up before she had a chance to compliment Amanda and Kurt. "Oh my _gosh_, it took you _forever_ to come down! You totally need to hit the dance floor!"

And Rogue quickly smacked Kitty off her. "Actually, I think I'm gonna enjoy some food before I attempt anythin' in these shoes," she lied, reaching out for a massive cookie.

"And we still need to mingle, of course," Wanda motioned to the other wallflowers.

"Ugh, fine," Kitty rolled her eyes and threw up her arms. "But I will not be happy until I see you two do some hardcore booty dancing by the end of the night," she warned, wagging her finger and trying to glare menacingly as she dragged Amanda and a still-gaping Kurt on the dance floor.

Wanda took Rogue by the arm again and continued their moseying. A brief chat with a few of the newer recruits (and a few more stuttering compliments from the boys) and Rogue found their trajectory closing in on a certain group of Acolytes talking in the corner. She refused to make eye contact… but she could feel staring. It was intense enough to make her repolish her smirk and sexy pose as she finished complimenting Amara the (somewhat) Sexy Amazonian and Cowboy Sam. And right as they were about to walk away, Rogue felt a polite tap on her shoulder.

She turned and was almost surprised to look down. "Hey," she greeted Jubilee, trying to hide the unease in her voice.

"Hey," Jubilee twisted her seemingly dozens of glowing bracelets. "Look," she took a deep breath. "I'm sorry about the whole… _boy_ thing. Kitty knocked some sense into me and now I know I was being stupid about … him." She made a face.

And Rogue laughed. "Yeah, you kinda were. But I'll forgive you."

And Jubilee grinned. "Thanks."

"Is Tabby still on the warpath?"

Jubilee looked over at the jubilant Devil Tabby booty dancing with Pietro the Flash. "I doubt it," Jubilee snorted. "But she's still going to try and go after him. I mean look at her costume! Totally pathetic."

"And speaking of pathetic costumes," Wanda pointed to Jubilee's light show of a costume. "I see you returned yours."

"I had to. Alice in Wonderland costumes are _so_ last year."

"Mmhm. So what the hell are you supposed to be now?"

"A rave, duh!" She popped her purple gum, taking a moment to do wavy rave hands.

"Fitting."

"And might I say you look like hot sex, Rogue?" Jubilee grinned. "Like, hotter than a Pop-Tart fresh out of the toaster."

"Cherry or strawberry?"

"Cherry, like your lipstick."

"Good. I don't want nothin' to do with that blueberry or brown sugar crap."

"Or the unfrosted kind," Wanda added.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Jubilee agreed seriously.

Rogue looked over Jubilee's shoulder, finally noticing the person that kept staring their way. "I think… I think Bobby's starin' at you, Jubes."

And Jubilee whipped around quickly. And whipped back. "Oh… yeah, I told him I'd dance with him…"

"Moved on so quick? You heartbreaker, you," Wanda commented coyly.

"Hey! He's not so bad…" Jubilee shrugged.

"And apparently he really wants his dance," Wanda observed. "He's coming over."

Wrapping an arm around Wanda and Jubilee's arm, he grinned as suavely as he could. "Hey la-a-adies," he stuttered, finally catching a full glimpse of Rogue. "Holy ice cube, Rogue, killer costume!" Rogue and Wanda groaned at the horrible pun while Jubilee giggled. "Get it? Black Widow Bride, killer costume? Eh? Eh?"

"Oh yes, we get it," Wanda replied dryly. "Now what are you supposed to be?"

Bobby grinned and slid on his shutter shades and re-popped his collar. "Baby, I'm cool."

And that got Rogue and Wanda laughing.

"So cool," he nodded with a Bro face, letting cold steam drift off his face.

"Cool is so mainstream," Wanda waved him off genially, looking at Rogue for her approval.

Bobby frowned. "I thought you two were goths, not hipsters."

"You kids and your labels."

"Actually, I thought you kinda looked like a Bro," Rogue tilted her head.

And Bobby grinned. "Really? Awesome!"

With that, some kind of generic party rock song came on and everyone cheered- including Bobby.

"LMFAO! I love them! Let's go!" He grabbed an equally excited Jubilee and they joined the throng of booty dancers.

"He really is going to grow up to be a Bro," Wanda mused.

"It's a sad aspiration, but we can only hope he doesn't turn out to be a Scumbag Steve."

Wanda linked arms with Rogue again and they began slowly parading… towards Farmer Piotr and St. John the Fireman. Where was…

She ignored the thought and focused on a new realization. It finally dawned on Rogue why she was being casually dragged along. "Your campaign wouldn't have a… hidden agenda, would it?"

"None."

"Liar."

"Oh hush, you," Wanda swatted. "Like you're so innocent tonight. Black Widow Brides always have a hidden agenda."

"Hello, Piotr," Wanda greeted calmly. "Hello… St. John. You two look quite festive today."

Piotr nodded curtly. "Thank you. You two are also looking very well."

And Rogue could feel Wanda drifting closer and closer to St. John… trying to be sneaky, yet failing horribly. She rolled her eyes. Wanda's denial of attraction was almost painfully embarrassing to watch.

"You two sheilas havin' a good night?" St. John grinned like a maniac, flicking his zippo cap. Wanda slapped his hand and he faked a wounded look. "Aye! What'd Betsy do to you!"

"Stop it with the twitching. You're freaking everyone out, Human Torch," Wanda glared, faking annoyance pretty well.

"No need to get all paranoid on me. I'm a fireman today! "

"And fireman don't create fires, moron," Wanda flicked his head.

"No love for the flame anywhere," St. John moped but then brightened up and slung an arm over Wanda's shoulder. "But then again, why do I need fire when you light up my life so, love," he grinned cheekily.

"Dear Lord, spare me." Rogue muttered and turned to Piotr, who looked equally uncomfortable. "Everyone really loves the body art you did. Thank you again, really," Rogue smiled kindly. "It really made my costume make sense."

Piotr nodded curtly again. "I am glad to have done it. You do look… very nice."

Rogue stifled a laugh. She wondered if there was a term for "slutty skank" in Russian and if he was thinking it.

"Enjoyin' yourself?"

He nodded curtly again. Was that a faint blush on his cheeks? "This… this is my first dance. And first Halloween."

"Really? Well, I hope-"

The music lowered and the sound of a microphone tapping on interrupted the conversation. "Ladies and gentleman, it has come to my attention that we have a song request and dedication," Jubilee murmured into the microphone like a late night smooth jazz DJ. "Rogue? Is Rogue still in the building?"

And Rogue felt the blood drain entirely from her body. She felt herself backing up. Oh no… oh no-no-no…

"She's over here!" Wanda hollered and pointed to Rogue, who had jumped behind Piotr and used him as a hiding spot.

"Remind me why we're friends?" she hissed at Wanda. And Wanda just grinned conspiratorially.

Kitty's head popped behind Piotr and grinned at Rogue. "I warned you!" she laughed happily as she dragged Rogue out. Note: it was very hard to resist moving while not falling in pumps.

"Kit, no- really," she protested. And Wanda joined in on the action, pushing Rogue from behind.

"No! I have no friends!" she condemned, trying to squirm away from them while everyone watched and laughed. This was too much. No good _ever_ came from her dancing.

"Everyone, please show your booty-dancing support on the dance floor. Rogue, this one's for you."

'_Na-na-na, Come on!_'

And Rogue groaned, condemning the skies and her luck. It was apparent. There was no god. Rogue attempted to flee the dance floor when Wanda and Kitty pulled her back in and sandwiched her, grabbing her arms and flailing them in the air.

"It's part of the plan!" Wanda yelled.

"The plan to kill me slowly?" Rogue shouted back.

"You're into that, right?" Wanda cackled.

Rogue did all she could to squash the fear and panic welling up inside her. It was just a dance, right? And Kitty and Wanda knew the risks and were smashed up against her in an almost lesbian sandwich. Was this what really happened in clubs? Oh god, there was so much skin around her.

"Come on, chica! Loosen up!" Jubilee took her by the hand and started dancing with her.

"You danced onstage for Dracula and now you can dance for this! Let it happen!" Kitty yelled into her ear. Rogue groaned. She knew doing that stupid play was going to bite her in the ass sometime.

And when the chorus came along and every girl started joyously screaming and jumping around like a maniac, she began to feel herself unwittingly loosen up. What _was_ it about these girls that made her do stupid things? She felt herself get into it like… like when she was a badass Bayville Siren.

And it was nice.

"Woo! Shake it, girl!" Tabitha danced enthusiastically right up to Rogue and began her crazy, 'I should be a go-go dancer' routine with Pietro in tow. Rogue and Wanda met eyes quickly in surprise. Apparently Tabitha was over her jealous streak… outwardly in any case.

And after "her song" (as every girl around her dubbed it from that night forward), she decided she really had put herself in too many life threatening situations recently. As she left, Kitty and Jubilee pouted. Wanda… curiously nipped off somewhere…

"I'm gonna get out while I'm still ahead and get some air," she excused herself, grabbing some punch and a handful of candy on the way out. It was also curious to note that the punch table was completely filled with punch cups… but no chaperones. Interesting…

Rogue hurried out of the parlor doors to the decorated attached patio and leaned on the railing. She hoped she was out of the clear from dancing anymore. It felt like her face was flushed from the reoccurring nervousness and less from the "hardcore booty dancing" she was forced into. She took a deep, relaxing breath and allowed herself a smile. She had made it this far into the night without something disastrous happening. In fact… things were going pretty well.

"Looks like the Rogue finally decided to come out and play," a smooth voice behind her commented.

Well, things _had_ been going pretty well.

Rogue slowly straightened herself and let coy smirk play at her lips. She turned around, one hand on her hip, one hand still twirling her small bouquet between her fingers.

"You can say that," she replied loftily.

Remy stepped out of the shadows and threw his cigarette butt on the ground. Rogue resisted crinkling her nose in disgust; it would ruin her image. The way he crept up to her was almost slightly unnerving; if she hadn't known him as a kidnapper and teammate, she might have been intimidated by the way his eyes were glinting. She made a note to ask him about that tendency later.

He closed in on her, almost pressing her up against the railing. It was too obvious he was trying to make her uncomfortable and she refused to let him see it. She lifted her face to match him, smirk for smirk.

But he ignored her eyes and instead focused on scouring her outfit. "Absolutely sinful," he murmured, stroking the leg of a spider curling up her neck through the protection of her veil. It was almost wistful and sighing the way he said it with his always present, underlying sensuality. Or maybe she was imagining that part.

Either way, she was positive his words would count as a searing compliment in Wanda's eyes.

"And you," she countered, unaffected by his wandering eyes, "are absolutely predictable."

His eyes flashed to hers piercingly and she kept the edges of her lips curled. He was really too close, she decided. And for a split second, she wondered if…

And his intense concentration broke as he smirked in satisfaction, finally backing off as if he had received the information he was looking for.

"And why's that?" he asked, grabbing for her punch cup and sat against the railing next to her.

"Your costume. A gangster? Really?"

And he grinned and tipped his pin stripped fedora. "I'd like to call it 'business associate'. There are kids around, after all," he shrugged, taking a moment to open his matching coat and take out a flask. "Can't be settin' bad examples, now can we?" Slopping some back, he grinningly offered it wordlessly to her.

A quick weighing of her decision and she grabbed it, sloshing it back too. Then she grimaced. "It's… sickeningly sweet Black Cherry Koolaid."

He grinned harder. "Trick."

"You lame-ass," she elbowed him in the side.

"Just because I'm respectful of underage functions…"

"Mmhm," she gave him a long face. "Always a man of honor."

"Why do you think I'm not inside dancin' with every girl inside? I'm honorable."

"Or Logan threatened to dismember you."

"That too."

"Smart move."

Remy sighed. "Everyone's always against this Cajun."

"Poor baby," she crooned.

They let conversation lapse into seeming melancholic silence, disrupted only by the sound of unwrapping and popping candy in their mouths. Rogue wondered languidly if bantering small talk was destined to be their thing. Like if their repartee was equivalent to the constant tapping on thin ice would never crack and plunge them into a too-frigid-for-comfort situation. Lord knows she couldn't get along with him for long periods of time… just like with everyone else. She wondered…if Wanda was also hinting at that…

She turned back around and leaned on her elbows, watching the moon bleed through the clouds and onto the perfect covered expanse of the Mansions backyard. The crickets had yet to die like the browning trees and she missed the autumns of the South. She sighed. A ridiculous thought, but he was a close a tie as she had to her former home.

"Y'know," she fiddled with a candy wrapper. "I've been thinkin' 'bout what happened and uh…I shouldn't have been such a bitch the other day. Lord knows Logan knows how to piss me off and I guess I really let it get to me. So, um… sorry 'bout that." She fiddled with her glove nervously as she waited for a response.

He didn't say anything and after a minute she looked at him through the corner of her eye.

And yanked the sudden cigarette from out of his mouth.

"The '_honorable_' thing to do would be to at least _say_ somethin' instead of givin' me revenge second hand smoke, y'know," she huffed, stomping the cigarette out on the ground and shoving the carcass in the pavement cracks.

"How cute," he snorted in amusement. "Gettin' etiquette lessons from a River Rat."

And she smacked his arm. "Oh hush."

He chuckled, fiddling with a random pack of cards. He waited another minute before answering. "As much as I don't need you to justify bein' angry with me, I can see where you're comin' from, why you got so defensive," he finally admitted.

There was that word again. She tried to not visibly look taken aback. She was only expecting something sexually corny pulled out of his corny fedora to suffice as an acceptable reply to her apology.

"And why's that?"

"You're paranoid," he shrugged.

"I hope you're goin' somewhere with this," she deadpanned.

"You're paranoid- but you got your reasons," he elaborated. "You expect someone to use your powers around every turn because that's all that's ever happened and that's what you acted on the other day."

She made a face. Was she that simple to understand? And was that really the bare and bleeding bones of it? "I guess," she mumbled.

"It ain't nothin' to be ashamed of," he added. "Happens to the best of us."

She snorted. "Even you, hot shot?"

He smirked distantly at the sky. "I am the best, aren't I?"

"Well, you're definitely not modest, that's for sure," she rolled her eyes playfully.

"Speakin' of modest." His eyes trailed up and down at her outfit.

She waved him off. "Oh hush, like you're really complainin'."

He chuckled. "So who's idea was it? I don't see Hello Kitty thinkin' of this. It seems like Wanda's sort of thing."

She snorted. "It was _my _idea, actually."

He reached over and played with the black trail dangling off her ass, grinning like a leech. "Was it now?"

"Mmmhm." She smiled distantly, picking at her fake bouquet. "I thought it was too metaphorical to pass up." She let an almost unnoticeable sigh escape her lips. When she really said it aloud, it came out too melancholy instead of breezy and blasé like she had mentally rehearsed. There was still work to be done on her poker voice, apparently. "Well, I'm sure they're all wonderin' where I am," she sighed, then narrowed her eyes in annoyance at his now fingering of her veil. "And of course, they probably noticed you're gone too and have started rumors about us."

And he slung an arm loosely over her shoulder as they walked away. "Ah, let them talk, _chérie_."

"You only say that cuz _you_ don't have to answer to them in the morning," she muttered darkly, opening to the door to the parlor. One step in and she stopped, Remy bumping into her back hard.

"Go back, go back!" she hissed, trying to shoo him back outside.

And he laughed, stopping her before she could sneak around back outside. "Not a fan of slow songs?"

"Not particularly, now get outta my way."

"_Non_," he shook his head.

"_Move_," she spat through gritted teeth and held up a fist.

Instead, he took her by the arm and led her onto the dance floor.

"What do you think you're doin'?" she hissed, pulling back while trying to not make a scene.

"If you're gonna insist on puttin' on a show," he smirked mischievously, taking advantage of her almost imperceptible balance issues and tugged her into him, placing his hands on her waist, "you gotta do it right."

"God, why are you doin' this?" she pleaded, trying to hide her face from any gawkers.

"I'm just tryin' to help you out," he shrugged.

"This is in _no way_ gonna help me out. In fact, this is just gonna make it _worse_."

He smirked, swaying her around. "And _that's_ where you're wrong, _chérie_. I'm helpin' you plenty."

"Explain before I kill you."

"Did you realize that the adults finally came in?"

Her face flushed as she shook her head nervously. She was sure she was one leg movement away from being in severe dress code violation.

"Xavier, Ororo, and Logan- all in the corner watchin'. Your plan to socialize with the kids might be workin'- but what's the point if the adults don't see?"

And she saw his point. And scowled. "I don't know what plan you're talkin' 'bout," she denied.

"Sure you don't," he winked knowingly, before glancing up casually. "And now, the adults've seen you and Logan's not lookin' very happy."

"Serves him right," she murmured.

"Wanna make him madder?" His eyes glimmered impishly.

She narrowed her eyes. "If you're talkin' mouth-to-mouth again, I swear-"

He shook his head before she could finish her threat. "No, not talkin' that- unless you want to," he wagged an eyebrow.

Rogue pinched him and he winced.

"Get a little revenge on him. It'll be PG, I promise."

She glanced around Remy and saw the stoic stance and glare Logan sent their way. She _was_ still peeved at him…

"Fine," she agreed. "What's the plan?"

He let a slow smile creep on his face. "Don't panic," he murmured, slowly grabbing the front of her veil and lifting it over her head. "There," he approved, placing his hands back around her waist. "Now, put your hands around my neck."

And she froze. Her top half was _very_ exposed. "Wait. Are you sure-"

"_Oui,_ I'm sure," he nudged her arm slightly. Hesitantly she reached her arms up and clasped them lightly behind his neck, bouquet dangling lightly. He tugged her closer and it was then she realized she was still a few inches shorter than him with her ridiculous heels on. She also realized this was the closest she had ever gotten to a man, much less Remy. It turned her nerves back on.

"And now," Remy leaned down to whisper in her ear, "we flaunt it." Leading them both with expert casualness, he guided them closer towards the adults. With reddened cheeks, she carefully peaked around Remy to see the adults.

Xavier held his typical steeple hands, with an infinitesimal smile curling his lips. Ororo held a heavy hand on Logan's shoulder, a stern expression on her face. Logan… was glaring hard enough to burn a hole through Remy's head, looking like he had the nerve to go ask St. John to set Remy aflame.

And an amused smile turned to fighting giggles which turned into a silent, racking laugh that had her head buried into Remy's shoulder. And by the way she assumed they look, it probably only made the Logan situation worse, which only made her laugh harder. "Treat," she choked out, breathlessly.

She heard Remy's chuckles and his low, almost inaudible declaration. "_Dieu_, he is gonna _kill_ me."

And she took a deep breath and tried to regain herself, but wasn't able to refrain keeping a light smile on her face. "And he's just angry that there's no session for us tomorrow to kill you in. Aren't you glad we kicked some ass the other day?"

"_Chérie_, we always kick ass."

Another quick peek at Logan and she grinned. "Yeah, I guess we do."

"So," he leaned back to look at her face. "Since I helped you, lemme ask you somethin'."

She narrowed her eyes in suspicion, unable to be completely paranoid with a giggle still lodged in her throat. "And what's that?"

"Care to explain why a song 'bout sadomasochism was dedicated to you?"

And Rogue threw her head back, cackled, and grinned roguishly. "Nope. Not really."

* * *

Rogue woke up the next morning, still slightly sugar drunk. Rolling off her stomach, she poked her stomach and subsequently, her candy baby. It was disgusting and she felt disgusting. Relief washed over her that she had kicked ass enough over the weekend that she wouldn't have to train in her current "condition"; and _there_ was the silver lining to the weekend. Then again, the relief would only give way to self-hate and regret during tomorrow's session, she knew for sure. In any case, she was grateful for the morning off and slightly… paranoid?

As she looked around her room, she looked for the source of paranoia. Nothing out of the ordinary, but… something was off. Rogue opened her blinds and looked out, glad there was nothing amiss yet disappointed by the already bleak and dismal weather. It looked bitingly cold out- it wasn't quite snowing, but the dead leaves were a metaphor for her soon to be dead toes.

Rogue leisurely got ready for her day, making sure to get a larger sweater for her seemingly larger midsection. It felt like something was different in the air- like the festivities of the night before had given way to a (hopefully) calmer holiday season. Or maybe it was because she got a little bit more sleep than usual. And while she knew they had technically already been in the "fall" season, it felt more appropriate to think of thanksgiving-y things. Simply put, she felt like she should bust out the hand turkeys and Pumpkin Pie scented candles from the Yankee Candle Company.

But she also felt like she should check around corners and make sure she wasn't going to be attacked, poisoned, attacked, etc…

This lasted all the way down the trek to the kitchen.

"Whatcha lookin' for?" Remy's morning voice grumbled in her ear as she peaked into the kitchen. She jumped and almost socked him.

"Does it matter?" she growled. "_Apparently_ it's never too early to sneak attack someone."

He patted her head as he slipped past and entered the kitchen. "Stop with the paranoia. Halloween's over."

She rolled her eyes as she followed him into the wonderfully empty morning kitchen. It was probably nothing…and maybe she could con him into making her breakfast…

As the school day progressed, she was decided in ignoring that feeling. It was fairly easy after getting to school, with all the triviality of high school and whatnot. It was… _too_ easy.

She realized this after she returned to the Institute. The instant she stepped through the glass doors, she shivered.

Something was… amiss…

Rogue put her paranoia hat back on and walked slowly to her room. Again, nothing was missing, no one was hiding under the bed… no cards were in her underwear drawer.

She slowly walked back out into the halls, hesitantly and apprehensively. Surely, she couldn't be going crazy.

And as she tiptoed closer towards the staircase, she heard it. The scream.

Kitty's scream.

Rogue sprinted to Kitty's door and threw it open, fully prepared to kick some ass.

"Kitty, what-" And she halted, feeling the blood drain from her face and into her tingling feet.

Kitty jumped around gleefully, squealing and beaming like an idiot.

"It's Ugg season!"

Oh _hell_.

* * *

**AN: OKAY. SO. **I was all gung-ho and SUPER motivated working and polishing this bad boy off on Halloween. **AND **_**THEN **_I get an email for an interview for a job I so desperately need, so I spent any and all time trying to get prepared for that. **AND THEN**after I did _that_ I still had to work on a few job deadlines that I absolutely needed to do. Since _that's _done and over, I got super inspired to write _more_ to make up for the epic delay and had to cut the "chapter" in half, thus giving you three chapters in a week! **A WEEK! **So…TA-DA!

So many people wanted the treat part and I hope I delivered twofold, even though it's a bit late. It was sososo fun to write this chapter and to think of costumes and if anyone cares, Kitty's inspiration came from my own costume. If you didn't realize from the splattering of costume parts and Bobby/Scott/Wanda's almost outward mentioning, Rogue was a Black Widow Bride- a bride that keeps killing her husbands and keeps getting married. AND if you don't happen to understand the last part, I HIGHLY recommend reading my lil one-shot "Secret Secrets" AND reviewing it. It's fun, so I've been told, and isn't as darkly tinged as The Wreckage. It's just a small, fun back story that takes place within the next few chapters. The subsequent chapters may refer to it, but it's not completely necessary, YET I suggest you read it to get a good lol or rereading it if you have already read it. Review anyways! Thanks for reading and reviewing and reviewing again! Hope your Halloween was fun and delicious!


	16. And If This All Goes To Hell

**Title: **The Wreckage

**Disclaimer: **I don't even own the rights to my soon to be college degrees and will not for many, many, many years… It's called a starving ex-student, and by the state of my fridge, I'm living the dream.

**Pairing:** Rogue and Remy

**Rating: **Teen/Mature

**Warnings:** Contains dark and adult themes

**Summary: **It's what happens when two sides collide. The explosion between what you want and what you need, what's right and what's wrong. It's the wreckage. And it could be so easy. ROMY.

* * *

**The Wreckage**

**Chapter Sixteen**

**And If This All Goes To Hell, You'll Hear Me Kickin' And Screamin'**

* * *

Rogue was sprinting.

And she felt, with every molecule in her body, it wasn't her typical 'let's pretend that running as hard and fast as you can will prevent a death via Wolverine.'

This was a bona fide life or death situation. She just didn't know why.

Then again, the situation was too dire to think about the why's and the how's. She was going to be murdered. And it wasn't going to be a slow murder- _no_. This was going to be the worst thing she could ever possibly think of- so horrific her feeble mind couldn't begin to fathom the agony.

But she _had_ to go, to find sanctuary and most importantly, to _wait_. Because she couldn't leave until she had all the pieces figured out and cleaned up the best she could.

And she wouldn't go until they proved…

Until they proved…

What needed to be proven?

What had she done?

And Rogue woke up with a start. She jolted up and scanned her strangely illuminated room, feeling like she was being hunted out, just like in her dream.

It was a dream, right? Or was it a memory? She buried her head in her hands. There was nothing to latch onto in the dream/memory for reference and this was the third night in a row she had dreamt something horrifically ambiguous; she felt like she was going crazy with the stress and it was pissing her off. She was always running, hiding, fearing- and she didn't know _who_ the hunting party was, and that just made it all the more confusing. The nightmares she usually endured made it hard to remember that she was capable of weird, psychological, bullshitty dreams, though few and far between, and she couldn't shake the feeling that it could be her own mind messing with her.

* * *

And as Rogue watched the news the next morning, she tried hard to suppress the shiver cascading down her back to the very tips of her toes. It was times like this she realized how utterly terrifying it was to be a mutant outside of Xavier's care, how many uncertainties lied in just walking down the street, trying to go about your day.

A quiet hush fell over the kitchen. All motions of eating or drinking or running around trying to procure the last cherry pop-tart stopped. Besides the deafening disbelief of horrified student, the only noise was the somber trill of CNCB's Trish Tilby. The missing mutant report had risen slowly over the last few months, but quickly enough to gain media attention and certainly quick enough to catch the Institute's attention.

"Kids?" Kitty's normally shrieking voice was quietly outraged.

"_Twins?_" little Jamie's voice whispered.

"God have mercy," Kurt mumbled, a quick German phrase following.

Even as the morning news switched topics, a quiet hush still blanketed the room, only interrupted by clanging dishes and chairs scratching the wood. Rogue didn't bother looking up to see the plainly worried faces of her teammates. She didn't want to see them glance her way with expressions of pity and worry for her well being.

Not that it wasn't warranted. She was targeted and it could be her swept away before she stepped a foot into Bayville High premises. It had happened before, it could happen again. And by the series of nightmares she had been having...

Ororo's calm and quiet voice pierced the anxiety. "May I remind you all to practice extreme vigilance while off Institute grounds. If at all possible, please travel in groups of three or more, always carry your communicators, and _always_ let someone know where you are."

Everyone mumbled in agreement.

"What are we going to do for Thanksgiving? We're all going to be traveling… we'll all be separated…" Jean asked quietly.

"Anyone who feels uncomfortable to go home can stay here, of course. Otherwise, Professor Xavier has offered to provide secured transportation should you want to go home."

"What about…" Scott trailed off uncomfortably, scratching the back of his head uncomfortably.

"If you are of age, you are free to do as you see fit."

She could see Scott almost visibly brighten and Rogue could see why. Unlike previous years, he had two more options for holidays: Jean or Alex.

"And those that aren't?" Rogue asked drily.

"If you are under Xavier's care, you will stay here, unless other approved arrangements are made."

Rogue resisted the urge to make a face. It looked like she was spending the holidays even more alone than usual- unless she could find someone who'd be willing to take her home with them… but did she really mind being alone…? Her mouth quirked at the thought and she stifled her face muscles before she could give herself away.

"In any case," Ororo refocused on the rest of the group. "Your parents have been contacted about the increase in security precautions and have been advised accordingly." This produced groans among a few students. "Now off to school, all of you." She motioned to speed up the eating process and the stuffing and rushing commenced, albeit more preoccupied than normal.

Tabitha slurped the rest of her sugar rush and stretched noisily. "Man, if I thought my mom was on my back as it was, it was nothing compared to what's coming," she rolled her eyes. "I can't wait until we kick some bad guy ass."

"First of all, the only person on your back is you. And second, pity the delinquent for constantly getting in ridiculous amounts of trouble," Jubilee scathed and rolled her eyes. "_My_ parents are strict for _no reason_. I won't even be able to look out a window the entire time I'm home," she moaned.

"Would you rather not look out a window in the comfort of your own home with parents who aren't heartbroken you haven't gone missin' or in a cage bein' treated as a lab rat?" Remy's voice drawled from the doorway, sipping a steaming cup of coffee.

Tabitha and Jubilee's attention pivoted to his face and they flushed in embarrassment. "I'm just saying…" Jubilee stammered.

Rogue idly wondered if this was the first time he had ever directed a thought at the girls or initiated a conversation without them already hanging off him. Regardless, the desired effect of his words was achieved.

"What he means is, look at the big picture," Rogue supplied grimly. "You could be on the news next. We all could." Grabbing her empty cup and standing up, she stalked towards the coffeemaker and poured another cup of life nectar. She sighed into the cup. It was hard to shake off the effects of her nightmare.

She felt the warmth beside her and saw his hand reach out to grab the carafe before she heard him.

"Why the long face?"

She shrugged, none too willing to divulge the paranoia of her nights. "Just forgot Thanksgivin's only a couple weeks away."

"Got big plans?"

She rolled her eyes. "Only lots of readin', if that counts."

"Ain't goin' anywhere to give thanks?"

"Got nowhere to go," she shrugged again. "You?"

He shrugged, blasé as he observed the delayed building of breakfast chaos . "I dunno. Thinkin' 'bout just hangin' out here this year."

"Huh," she mused thoughtfully into her cup. "I thought you'd just go home for the holidays instead of stickin' round." A small pang of pain ran through each temple and she tried to ignore it.

"Nah, not this year," he smiled, almost… ruefully? Maybe she was just seeing things.

"What 'bout for Christmas?"

"Probably not," he shrugged again. Then he grinned devilishly down at her. "Why? You want some alone time with this Cajun?"

And she snorted, only slightly entertained. "More like alone time _away _from you, Cajun."

"Mmhm. Sure," he nodded mockingly. "I know you. You just can't wait to have me all to yourself."

"Oh yes. In fact, that's why I never go anywhere for the holidays. I've just been waitin' for the perfect time to try and seduce you. How lucky. I finally get the chance," she sarcastically swooned, hand over her heart.

"Seduced by the Rogue and piss off the Wolverine at the same time? Sounds more like _my _lucky day," he smirked.

"You're a moron," she rolled her eyes, finishing her coffee and sticking the cup in the dishwasher.

"_Mais, _I'm a moron for you, _chérie_," he called out to her retreating form.

She was about to turn back and send off a nice come-back via her middle finger when Professor Xavier suddenly rolled out in front of her. She stumbled a little, wide-eyed and paranoid at her almost breech of Institute rules.

"Rogue, is everything okay?" the Professor pitched an eyebrow, slightly bemused.

"Oh no," she rushed. "You just surprised me, that's all. Sorry."

He gave her a kind smile. "No, no. My apologies, I didn't intend to startle you."

She felt suddenly awkward and highly aware of the secrets she was keeping from the world's greatest telepath.

"Well, um… gotta grab my bag," she motioned upstairs, slightly inching backwards.

"Actually, Rogue, just a moment."

She halted, trying to look at ease and not ready to bolt.

"I understand you leave for school right now, but would I be able to have a moment of your time when you return?"

And her heart stuttered a bit. She hadn't done anything wrong lately… right?

"Oh. Yeah, sure," she agreed weakly, trying not to look as panicked as she felt. "After school."

He nodded with his ever present calm smile. The Professor's face was never as indistinguishable as Remy's poker face, but it was still unnerving how much it didn't betray unspoken intentions. "Excellent. I will see you in my office when you return then."

"Yeah, see you then," she smiled (again, weakly) as she darted up the stairs to a hollering Kitty.

* * *

As the day progressed, she mentally ticked off the numerous reasons she would be called for an impromptu meeting. The Professor definitely didn't make this meeting seem like a group one, so she really had to assume the worst. It felt like there were so many things to answer to…

The Professor _still_ hadn't reprimanded her for her drunken adventure and she didn't even want to think what he made of her Halloween masquerade and what _that_ now seemingly ill-conceived plan said about her mental state.

Rogue felt like the world's biggest idiot. Instead of helping her cause, it seemed like she had just dug herself into an impossibly deep cavern of endless, eternally watchful eyes. This was _not_ something she needed right now.

There would be questions as to how her powers and her mind were progressing. Her erratic behavior would be foremost. Nothing was unseen at the Institute. Was she meditating? Was she still having nightmares? Was she having unexpected control issues?

She cringed. There had been numerous power surges in the last few months and she hadn't told anyone. The only one who may know…

It was the middle of class and she cursed quietly and buried her head in her hands. Was it just her or had Logan been a bit of an asshole lately? In his frustration with her, especially with that outburst right before Halloween, he had probably finally alerted the Professor to her chaotic displays of other mutant powers.

And then the sessions would start again. And the medical visits. And then the staff would find out about…

Shit, shit, _shit_, she was so screwed. There was no way to flip this around in a better light, no way to get out of involuntary commitment and psychiatrist visits and evaluations and pills. She was a good fibber- but you can't outright _lie_ to a telepath, especially with a telepath with as much presence as Professor Xavier.

With zombie concentration, she flitted to each class a nervous wreck, barely keeping a "don't fuck with me today" front and slipping into a jittery, almost talkative façade. Everyone noticed- and some took the unsaid offer to pry and dig for information.

"What's with you today? It looks like you're actually receptive to human interaction today," Wanda eventually asked.

Rogue gave her a bullshit smile. "What? As my 'get off my back' campaign manager, shouldn't you be happy for this turn of events?"

"Hardly. Don't take away my sole purpose in life," Wanda waved. "And even still, you're… just plain jumpy today. Why?"

Rogue sighed, knowing she couldn't keep something so troubling out of her typical mannerisms. Maybe she could pass it off to something equally troubling… "You see the news reports this mornin'?"

"Blob stepped on the remote."

Rogue gave her blank stare. "And…"

"Well, I'd like to think I'm above turning on a TV _manually_," Wanda shrugged.

Rogue rolled her eyes. "Well, Princess, tell your dad to get you a new remote, seein' as mutant kids in the Tri-State area gettin' carted off to God-knows-where is kinda relevant to you too."

Wanda winced. "More?"

"Yeah, more. _Twins_. Poor twins gettin' off the bus for school. Rich twins with bodyguards."

Wanda stopped all movement. "… Twins?"

"Yeah," Rogue murmured.

Swallowing and glancing morosely across the quad to Pietro, Wanda's face became almost as troubled as Rogue felt. "Well... Those bodyguards did a shitty job."

Rogue only felt slightly guilty she used the news report as her excuse. When she thought to use it, she didn't even remember Wanda was technically a twin. Either way, it got her off her back and left her to contemplate her own situation.

But by the time Kitty swerved into the garage after school, Rogue couldn't find the end of her cavernous grave. She hesitated before getting out of the car and lingered in the garage, claiming to catch up with them when she finished digging through her backpack for "homework that she might have accidently left in her locker." She had run out of time.

"You're anxious," a low voice echoed through the garage.

Rogue banged her head on the car frame in her surprise to find the offending voice. What _was _it with this guy, creeping around wherever she happened to be?

"Damnit! Make some damn noise, you creep," she hissed, rubbing her sore head.

"Why? You all make enough noise, I shouldn't have to," Remy waved a wrench towards the departed passengers. "What's your problem?"

"None of your business, Swamp Rat," she glared, still rummaging aimlessly through her bag.

"Whatever you say, _chérie,_" he hummed, leaning back down to face the underside of his bike.

Rogue slowed her fiddling and looked out of the garage and around to the grounds. She was on negative time now. _What was she going to do_?

She could… leave. One glance towards Logan's bike and she let her lips curl up in cruel thoughts. It _was_ his fault she was in this position…

But the echo of recent news reports reminded her that she had _nowhere_ to go, with no money, with no prospects. This was the safest place for her- which was, considering her current circumstances, also a cruelly ironic thought.

After a few silent minutes, Remy piped up again. "Y'know, it seems to me you're stallin'. Any particular reason why?"

"_No_," she denied vehemently, completely halting her ridiculous rummaging.

"Then you're just out here for the marvelous company, _hein?_"

"Shut it," she spat, biting the edge of her leather glove. Of all the things to be thinking about right now, it definitely wasn't him. Over the years, she had absorbed enough people who had already resided in a psych ward- enough to know she didn't want to go there herself. She could see the way the intake process would go down- how she'd have to be mentally and physically sedated because she'd be kicking and screaming the entire way. And of course, because she was a dangerous mutant, it wouldn't be a typical psych ward. She'd get the privilege of somewhere equipped especially for dangerous, insane mutants with potent drugs and useless therapy.

Her contemplations completely blocked out the sound and feel of Remy sidling up next to her.

"Hey," she heard in her ear. She jumped, clearly startled and hit the car again.

"_Dieu_, what the hell's got you so worked up?" he grabbed her arm and set her upright.

"It's nothin'," she insisted, yanking her arm away.

"Mmhm," he drawled. "And my nerves are on edge just for the hell of it."

Damn him and his empathy. She wondered if she could feed him the same bullshit story she told Wanda. Then she wondered if he could catch lies. And she dragged a nervous hand through her hair. Of course he probably could- the guy was like a con-artist and she wasn't trained well enough to lie to a master.

"Look- the Professor asked me to see this mornin' and I'm not sure why," she finally admitted, looking around to make sure no one was around.

A slinky smile oozed on his face and she wished she could just slap it off. "Ohhh, sounds like the Rogue is in trouble."

His blasé accusation let another pang of anxiety hit and she looked around tensely.

His eyes narrowed teasingly. "Well… are you?"

She bit her gloves nervously again. While she realized he was a potentially decent guy, she really didn't feel like full disclosure at the moment. "I… I don't know. Maybe?" It was probably the pathetic whisper that disclosed enough to wipe the smirk off his face.

"What'd you do?"

"What I did, what I didn't do… I just… I don't really wanna go into it," she fluttered her hand in the air nervously, still biting her other glove.

He nodded slowly, seemingly accepting her vagueness and leaned against the SUV next to her. "Well, what's the worst that can happen? Jail? Prison?"

Rogue shook her head adamantly. "No, it's not anythin' like that."

"That rules out murder then," he shrugged dispassionately.

Another sharp pang sparked and her hand flew up to temple as she grimaced. What was it with her head today?

"You gonna get kicked out?"

She winced. "I wouldn't say 'kicked out'…"

Remy nodded again. "Well then, seems like a situation you can get out of- or at least lie your way through."

Rogue heaved a huge sigh and rubbed her face. "I dunno. I've got too much to answer for and I don't think I can lie through this one."

He chuckled. "_Ouais_, I can see that. You've too upset. You'll sell yourself out the minute you walk in."

"Ugh!" she banged her hand on the car. "God, I don't know what I'm gonna do," she mumbled.

"Is this your way of askin' for my help?"

"What? No! Not everythin' revolves around you, damn Cajun," she narrowed her eyes dangerously.

"I'm just offerin'," he lifted his hands in defense.

"What could you possibly offer that could get me out of this situation?" she crossed her arms expectantly.

From God-knows-where he pulled out a playing card- a Queen of Hearts, to be exact. Why did it always seem he only had decks of those? "Why, Lady Luck, of course," he grinned.

"Ha ha," she responded with a withering look. "What am I just gonna do? Impress them with card tricks and hope they forget?"

He faked a pout. "_Chérie_, I'm almost offended."

"And I'm still sittin' in my own grave."

He rolled his eyes and waved the card. "This card don't mean you have the right to be a drama queen, you know. What I was really gonna ask is if you wanted…" he deliberated a moment. "Maybe some extra _expertise_ in gettin' out of tricky situations?"

That stopped her fidgeting. "What kind of… expertise?"

"In the art of smooth talkin', of course."

Rogue settled back down against the car. She _did_ compare him to a con-artist only minutes earlier… and he was good at what he did… and it would be helpful in any future situations. "Okay…" she agreed slowly. "What about it?"

"Well, since you're on limited time, I think a crash course is more appropriate," he shrugged casually.

She flinched back a little before he could get any ideas.

He rolled his eyes. "Not like that. I'd like to think I learned my lesson."

"I don't know… No offense or anythin', but I'll get your eyes again and they'll know somethin's up." It was horribly tempting though- to be able to ease her way out of the situation.

"You've gotten my powers without my eyes before," he pointed out. "And it ain't about getting' my powers this time. You should be fine."

Rogue shook her head. "My powers don't always work like that. It's too risky..."

"Just a tiny tap and you'll be good to go, trust me." Remy held out his dirty yet bare hand. "Unless you got any other ideas?"

She was desperate. So desperate without any other ideas. With a shaky exhale, Rogue peeled a glove off.

"Wait. Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why are doin' this? Why are you just offerin' to let me absorb you?"

He shrugged. "Can't a friend help a friend?"

It was bizarre hearing those words come out of his mouth. She still wasn't convinced.

He rolled his eyes. "Fine. You're so stressed it's makin' me stressed. Gotta do what I can to stay sane, _hein_?"

She almost let out a sigh of relief. Why that was a more appropriately acceptable answer was beyond her.

"Well, that sounds about right. Just… focus on whatever the hell advice you wanna give. I'll try and make it fast."

"Will do," he winked. "Now, do your worst."

She gave him a withering glare as she plunged in and barely caressed the top of hand. Another shock jolted through her body and she leaned against the car to keep herself up.

"You good?" she heard his slightly strained voice dimly over the influx of thoughts and memories.

"Yeah, just…" she trailed off, her hand waved around in the air. Processing the surface thoughts as best as she could, she tried to reach in and grab the most pertinent and useful tidbits of advice. Apparently he had _a lot _of advice. It took a few moments to order it into a coherent plan.

Also, it was odd feeling a breath of confidence puff into her. "Jesus, you even gave me your cockiness," she muttered.

"Part of the charm," she heard his smirk grow. "Findin' anythin' useful?"

"A few things," she admitted with a chuckle, still struggling to keep a few prominent mannerisms at bay. "Eyes?"

"Yours."

"Good," she nodded, feeling ridiculously more at ease. "Man, I forgot it feels like a constant caffeine rush bein' you."

"Again, part of the charm."

She shook her head. "You realize I'll eventually use all of this against you, right?" she smirked.

And he smirked. "I didn't give you _all_ my secrets. I still got a few tricks up my sleeve."

"I'll bet."

"You good to go then?"

She pushed herself off the car and smirked a little too close to his trademark. "Hope so."

"Good luck to you then," he nodded.

"And if this all goes to hell, you'll hear me kickin' and screamin'," she mused carelessly.

"I'll be sure keep an ear out."

* * *

**AN**: I had to do a bit of research to kind of understand involuntary commitment in NY. In California, we call it 5150 and for anyone who's ever been or almost been 5150'd, I'm sure you'll understand the panic involved. For those who don't understand what Rogue fears, she's anticipating being found out about her self-mutilation and erratic behavior, thus fearing being involuntarily placed in a mental health facility. Anywho, what'll happen next? Hope you enjoyed some dark inspiration after copious amounts of job applications and cover letters. The economy truly sucks.

Please review and I'll have the next chapter out shortly. : )


	17. Gonna Get a Good Night's Sleep Tonight

**Title: **The Wreckage

**Disclaimer: **I don't even own the rights to my soon to be college degrees and will not for many, many, many years… It's called a starving ex-student, and by the state of my fridge, I'm living the dream.

**Pairing:** Rogue and Remy

**Rating: **Teen/Mature

**Warnings:** Contains dark and adult themes

**Summary: **It's what happens when two sides collide. The explosion between what you want and what you need, what's right and what's wrong. It's the wreckage. And it could be so easy. ROMY.

* * *

**The Wreckage**

**Chapter Seventeen**

**I'm Gonna Get a Good Night's Sleep Tonight**

* * *

_Demand attention with your most charmin' confidence._

Rogue knocked clearly on the Professor's heavy door and waited patiently for verbal acknowledgement. It was eerie how comfortable she was with this plan. In any other situation, she would have probably equated it to having your identical twin take an exam you didn't study for.

_Walk in with a smile and act like it's just a typical day- or in your case, try to act pleasant._

If she wasn't focusing so hard on keeping a composed face, she would have become visibly annoyed with his cheekiness. However… it was hard to feel annoyed when you were feeling so _confident_.

"Please come in."

She poked her head in the door with wide, almost smiling eyes and a brief cursory glance around the room. It was just the Professor, _thank God_. "Hey, Professor, you still wanted to see me?"

It was almost akin to being an actress and just stepping into a simple role.

The Professor smiled kindly and motioned for her to step inside. "Ah, yes, please come in, Rogue. I was getting worried you forgot about our meeting."

_Don't forget that adorable southern belle upbringin'._

Rogue lowered herself into the seat with poise and crossed ankles instead of defaulting to her normal, angry slouch and looked slightly abashed as she tucked a tuff of hair behind her ear.

_Don't babble too much or too fast._

"Sorry 'bout that, Professor. I got to talkin' with Remy and lost track of time."

"No worries, Rogue. I sensed you in the garage with him," the Professor nodded approvingly. "Did you have a good chat with him?"

_Offer something enlightenin', somethin' that shows you've been more sociable. Stick to your plan._

"Yeah, I realized never really got to ask him about his bike before and since he was workin' on it, I got to askin' some questions," she shrugged casually. "I never really realized we both liked motorcycles so much."

"That's very good to hear. I am quite pleased to see you have been able to talk more amicably to him," he nodded again, somewhat hesitating to phrase his next sentence carefully.

Rogue pushed back the bubbling panic.

_Stay calm! He may not be able to pick up your thoughts, but I can bet he can pick up your crazyass emotions. Don't fight me._

"Speaking of Mr. Lebeau, I called you for a meeting for multiple reasons," the Professor began tentatively.

Rogue fought her nerves back and replaced them with Remy's cool and calm exterior. How did he master not panicking in the face of inquisition?

"I have been informed of… how should I put it… some recent occurrences regarding the usage of your abilities during Logan's Danger Room sessions. Is there anything you wish to talk about regarding these incidents before I continue?"

_Don't act outright innocent. Find out what he means first before you self-incriminate_.

"Incidents like…" she furrowed her brow, trying to maintain a somewhat "open but confused" face. There were plenty of occurrences that could screw her over and she couldn't just spout one off, now could she?

"In particular, in one occurrence it was mentioned that you were hard-pressed to use your powers, that perhaps your teammates… forced you to use your abilities on them."

_As pissed as you still are about that, don't act annoyed. Flip it around in your favor._

She understood Remy's advice immediately- admitting she was mightily pissed off that day would lead to inquiries about "being scared to use her powers" or "feeling mentally violated." It would get a quick, fiery rise out of her- and that Logan knew it. That's probably why he mentioned it. He wanted the Professor to see her vehement reaction and call her out on it too. But she was going to make it seem like she was happy she used her powers and won. She was going to stick one to Logan like that and for that, she was feeling a bit smug.

And Rogue nodded casually, leaning back and trying to seem relaxed. "Well, I guess it seemed like a good plan. I mean, I didn't really think about usin' someone else's powers at the time, and considering I was one of the ones who won, I guess everythin' worked out pretty well," she slightly smiled, trying to shake the Professor's too serious and unwavering gaze.

But by the Professor's slightly grim nod, she was sure he wasn't satisfied with her answer. What else did he want from her? What was he fishing for? "And during that session…did the usage of your powers cause you to feel…" his brow furrowed in contemplation, "uncomfortable in any way?"

_Oh hell. Keep your face straight! _

The light broaching of the issue hit Rogue (and Remy's psyche) full force and she internally groaned. That's what he meant by mentioned Remy's name. Of _course_ the Professor would be concerned- she was still technically a minor and Remy… Remy definitely wasn't. And since she was technically under Xavier's care…

And considering the recent events regarding him… bar trips… the proximity she had danced with him on Halloween- barely days after the… "plan transfer…"

She could unintentionally get him into heaps of trouble.

_Act like you don't know what he really means. Half-truths and obliviousness work wonders_.

Rogue shrugged dispassionately. "It's only uncomfortable for the first second or two, but it's more disorientin' than anythin'. But I highly doubt _that_ part of my powers will ever go away."

The Professor nodded again, somewhat more slowly. "I see. Did any other part of that particular session make you feel… ill at ease?"

Rogue scoffed. "Well, how about that whole entire session? I was sore for days." Maybe feigned ignorance would get him to drop it.

The Professor released a small, hesitant chuckle. "As was the rest of the team, I've been informed." He leaned back, slightly less tense it seemed, yet his eyes were still sharply observing her mannerisms, her responses. "May I inquire as to how you are faring with your abilities? It's been brought to my attention that perhaps there is a… lack of willingness to use your abilities."

Aha! It was too incredibly predictable to figure out what Logan's thought process was- or maybe she had absorbed him too much. Either way, she felt a smidge cockier and justified, having figured out the underlying reason for this impromptu meeting.

_Head back in the game, fille_.

"It's not that I don't want to use them, it's just I don't think I really _can_ use my powers in those sessions," Rogue replied simply.

That comment seemed to trouble him slightly. "May I ask why you feel this way?"

"Logan's sessions aren't the typical 'attack-the-other-team' battles anymore. All the enemies are robotic now- and my powers don't exactly work on them."

"Have you considered using your abilities to perhaps amplify the powers of your teammates?"

Rogue shrugged again. "I've done it before. The only problem is most of them aren't strong enough to fight well after. What's the point in that then?"

"I see," the Professor regarded her solemnly.

_Offer something else to think about_- _to show you've been thinkin' 'bout usin' your powers too, that you've got your reasons._

"Although…" She bit the inside of her lip and cocked her head slightly to the side in thought. "You know, I think Jean, Logan, and Remy are the only people I've absorbed who haven't almost passed out when I absorb their powers intentionally."

"Oh?" The Professor pitched an eyebrow in intrigue.

Mental high-fives all around. "Yeah. I guess I'll have to keep that in mind for later then. Maybe I can ask if they'd be willin'…" she drifted off "absentmindedly".

"Interesting finding. And may I inquire as to how the other aspects of your abilities are faring?"

There was a small hiccup in her composure that she prayed didn't make its way to her face.

_Stay calm and act collected, as if nothin's gone wrong lately. Maybe throw in some hope, a sign thing's are gettin' better_.

'Okay, now that's an outright _lie_,' she hissed at Psyche Remy.

_Make it work_._ You don't really got much of a choice_.

"Well, I'm nowhere near close to borrowin' Kit's clothes, but it ain't any worse than what it's been," she offered with a half smile. It wasn't a lie per say, it was a complicated half-truth; things had always been bad to begin with. "I seem to have finally got the meditation part down too. In fact, I'm thinkin' bout makin' one of my sessions with Logan a yoga session," she grinned cheekily. Payback would be sweet.

The Professor softly chuckled. "Please let me know how that conversation goes."

_And now, try to end this conversation_.

"Will do," she smirked, satisfied. "Was there anythin' else you needed to talk to me about, Professor?"

"Actually, I did have one last thing to discuss with you."

_Damn_.

She felt her heart beat a little bit faster. With the continued calm scrutiny, the room temperature was increasing. Her face was flushed with nervousness, she was sure. This was it…holy _hell_ this was going to be painful.

_Calme-toi_. There was almost a sharp pang with his scold and she was slightly grateful. It's like he mentally knocked her ass off her crazy train.

_If you start thinkin' like that now, you'll ruin everythin'. Chances are it's nothin' quite as bad as almost discussin' statutory rape._

She could feel his eyes roll at the thought and figured he was right. Professor Xavier always tended to get the horrible parts of the meetings done first, right?

"As the news reports have indicated, there have been increased kidnappings in the area. While we do not know for certain the significance of the kidnappings, the staff and I feel that it would be prudent to start precautionary measures here, preferably soon."

_Don't say anythin' until he explains._

Rogue gave him a blank stare. "Okay…"

"We were hoping you would be open to the idea of moving back in with Kitty."

_Don't-_

But it was too late. Rogue grimaced and released a small groan. "Professor, I really don't know…"

"I understand your hesitation, but please understand I suggest this for your safety. You have been indicated as a potential target and that is something I don't wish to treat lightly."

_Make a good excuse. Play on the pity party now and pretend you're reluctant to talk about it._

Rogue twisted with her gloves and looked down. "I know and I understand. It's just…" she sighed almost despondently. "I dunno, this is gonna sound stupid," she confessed, shaking her head.

_Say somethin' more substantial than 'I like my privacy,' s'il vous plait. _

"I can assure I will not think that," the Professor tried to placate her.

"It's just been nice havin' a little bit of space I don't have to cover up in, even if it's for a couple hours in the day. I dunno… I guess it just helps with everythin'," she vaguely motioned to her head.

The way she was piquing his curiosity was astounding and she almost marveled at the way the Professor was eating this right up. He was a psychologist who truly latched on small, finer details- anything that could get her talking more.

_Like I said, it's all part of the charm_.

"Helps in what way?"

She shifted in her chair and bit her lip. "Helps so that I'm not so… so stressed out all day, bein' around people. I'm just not all keyed up all the time like when I was livin' with Kitty," she sighed. "I'm sorry. It probably doesn't make much sense."

The Professor nodded slowly. "No, no, it does make sense. I am relieved to hear you are benefitting from having your own room."

Rogue looked to the floor, still fiddling with her glove. "I dunno…It's not that I don't like roomin' with Kitty, I just feel like I've had an easier time with everythin' since I've moved out…"

He nodded again. "I understand."

_Maybe suggest new rooming possibilities…_

And a slap of inspiration hit her in the face. Hard.

"Not to mention it's been nice gettin' a few doors away from world war three. Sleepin's been so much more _peaceful_," she threw her head back in desperate praise.

"Oh? Why is that?"

Rogue stared at the Professor in fake disbelief. "You really can't hear Jubes and Tabby fightin' all the time? They're gonna blow up the _entire_ room sometime soon and I don't really care to be nearby for that mess."

"Ah, yes," he replied wryly. "That's also been brought to my attention."

"I'm sorry, Professor, but _somethin'_ has to be done about them," she insisted. "Not only are most of us takin' bets on them, but you can't even be in the same room with them without something blowin' up or getting' blinded by light."

"So I've heard. Unfortunately, until more rooms are finished, they will have to remain roommates."

"I know, but…" she hesitated. "Have you thought about switchin' some of the girls around?"

"Like?"

"Like Tabby and Amara. They've been really good friends for a while."

"And what about Jubilation?"

_Tread lightly; this could easily blow up in your face_.

"Kitty?" Rogue smiled nervously.

That earned her an unsympathetic stare. "Rogue…"

Rogue held up her hands in defense and began pleading her case. "I know, I know, Professor. But you have to admit it makes sense."

"Rogue."

"Think of costs of redecoratin' if Jubes and Tabby _don't_ settle their differences."

"Rogue."

"Not to mention Jubes and Kitty are in the same year and really, it's _freaky_ how well they get along."

The Professor sighed. "It's not about if they'll get along, Rogue. It's perfectly clear they will. The matter at hand is _your_ safety."

_Lure him into a false sense of security; fall into somethin' contemplative and deep and begin the pity process again_.

"I know," she faltered, slumping in her seat. "It's just…"

"You would prefer to maintain a single dormitory."

"It's not that," she sighed. "They're just… better suited for each other, you know? And I love them and while we all get along… I'm still different from them. You gotta call a spade a spade, Professor. I'm not gonna turn into that girly girl roommate and they're gonna try to make me one and I'm just gonna get even more stressed out," she shrugged tiredly.

"Rogue," the Professor began seriously. "I did not ask to meet with you in order to cause discomfort. I only wished for you to understand that there are serious threats and I feel this is one course of action I am considering to help protect you."

"I know," Rogue nodded resignedly. "It's just that this is a really sucky situation." She picked up her bag off the floor, tired and ready to end this meeting. "Could you at least consider what I said, maybe even a little?" she asked, trying desperately to put back a glimmer of hope in her eyes.

"Rest assured, I will definitely consider what you have told me today."

"Thanks," she allowed a small smile. Before she walked out the door, she called back. "Oh, and I talked to the Brotherhood about what's been goin' on. Wanda suggested that we put security panels on the rooms with balconies."

The Professor nodded again. "If you will thank her for her suggestion, I will look into that as well."

Rogue walked out and allowed the door to click softly. Then she allowed herself a deep sigh of relief and a conniving smirk.

_Well done._

'Think I'll have to share a room?'

_Nope._

"Good."

* * *

"What'd she say, Chuck?"

Professor Xavier sighed into his steeple hands. "Exactly what we thought she would. And then some."

"About what part? Her powers or her rooming situation?"

"Both."

"I ain't surprised," Logan scoffed. "I told you she'd deny anything was wrong and that she wasn't givin' up her room easily."

The Professor waved his hand absentmindedly. "I figured the same as well, old friend. Even still… this was an interesting meeting, by far."

"How?"

"Her answers. They felt… oddly rehearsed. It was as if she had already anticipated every question I may ask and delivered it in a way that may lead me into a different direction, lead me into other questions."

"Think she was avoiding something? Was she was lying?"

"Not lying… I felt as though she was being mostly honest, but perhaps attempting to guide the conversation to better suit her desires. Rogue was remarkably collected for the entire meeting- no sign of her normal accusatory or sarcastic personality."

"There's nothin' normal about her anymore," Logan grunted. "I knew I should have been here for this. She'd have been more rattled if I was here. You'd have seen what I was talking about."

"I hardly aimed for her to feel nervous, Logan. I did truly wish to get a feel of how she was faring."

"And how'd that work out? You at least get a read into her mind?"

The Professor gave Logan a sharp look. "Logan, you know I don't ever read into the minds of my students unless they give me permission."

Logan rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. "Did she at least project anything?"

With a sigh, the Professor shook his head. "Her mind is always muddled but today her mind was far too… muted. Intentionally shielded, almost."

"On purpose?"

"It was hard to say. The entire conversation ended exactly how we thought it was… but the way she phrased everything… it was incredibly evasive."

"Evasive, huh? Like she's trying to hide something?"

"Possibly."

"I told you something was up."

Professor Xavier sighed. "Indeed, Logan. You may be right."

"So, what's the verdict then?"

"I'm not quite sure."

* * *

"Well, someone feels a bit less neurotic," she heard Remy mutter almost conversationally as he passed the salad bowl her way.

"Yup," she popped, throwing a handful of salad on her plate before passing it to a chattering Kitty. "Ain't it just peachy?" she responded pleasantly.

"Of course. And considerin' this place's been quiet and you're still here, I take it everythin' went well earlier?" he hummed, passing a bottle of salad dressing.

She chuckled to herself, replaying her near hysteria that morning. She had overreacted to the extreme and in retrospect, it was hilarious. Then again, maybe it was a good thing. Had she not been hysterical, she wouldn't have bumped into Remy. And she had to be honest with herself- Remy's advice had pretty much saved her ass. Really, she was elated how everything turned out.

"Why yes, yes it did," she allowed herself the ten-millionth smug smile that day. Her eyes flickered to the head of the table- flickered towards Logan- who had quickly averted his gaze away from her. Rogue felt a sharp spike in her anger towards him and almost turned that smile into something darker.

"I'd explain more except it seems my guard dog is listenin'," she spoke almost in a normal voice, stabbing the salad with a little more force than necessary and keeping her eyes in Logan's direction.

"Oh?" Remy's head turned towards Logan, who had also looked "coincidently" at the same time and glared. Turning his gaze back towards Rogue, he lifted an eyebrow in amusement. "Well now. This sounds like an entertainin' story."

"Oh, it is," she promised, popping some greens in her mouth, before turning to Kitty and joining in their mindless conversation.

And as she watched the conversation progress (with some input and laughter on her part, of course. She was playing _a part_, after all) throughout dinner, she could truly see the light flicker and burn to life at the end of her proverbial tunnel. It was slight, how tempers and annoyances were sparking between the girls- two girls, to be specific.

And she just needed to push them over the edge.

Watching them fervently with an entertained chuckle thrown in at opportune moments and by the near end of dinner she had her plan. Sure, it potentially risked breaking a rule or two the Institute established to keep sanity at the dinner table… and she risked getting herself in trouble if she was caught… and of course, she was going to need some help.

The plates were beginning to clear and Rogue realized she was almost out of time. The Professor was finishing off the last morsels on his plate…

And their squabbling had reached a typical peak.

"Well, I wouldn't be caught dead in that eyesore _you_ call a jacket. Ben Geller called- he wants his Rainy Day Bear jacket back," Tabitha narrowed her eyes with a grip so tight on the fork, it looked like she was ready to stab Jubilee in the face.

"At least I have enough dignity to cover up, unlike _you_. Honestly, Tabitha, it's winter- wear a damn bra," Jubilee scathed.

Things always got heated whenever Jubilee busted out the slut gun.

'Time to end this,' Rogue schemed, turning to her right- just in time to see her partner of crime get up.

"_Wait_,_"_ she hissed low, grabbing his coat and dragging him back down.

"What?" Remy looked bewildered for a minute.

She slightly nodded her head in the direction of a warring Jubilee and Tabitha.

He still looked bewildered.

Wordlessly, she passed him a single lima bean. Rogue tapped her plate, looked at Jubilee, and under the cover of the table, made an explosion gesture with her hand.

Remy gave her a less bewildered, more "are you crazy?" stare.

She clasped her hands together and silently mouthed her plea.

With a shake of his head, he sighed.

She wordlessly pleaded harder and added a small smile.

Putting his elbow up as cover, with his left hand he charged the small bean and flicked it expertly towards Jubilee. It didn't exactly make her plate- but it made the bowl of veggies in the middle of the table, exploding on impact.

It exploded loud enough to catch the attention of the entire group.

It also exploded hard enough to land some food debris on and around Rogue.

This was too perfect.

Jubilee shrieked. "You skank!" Jubilee seethed, hands bursting into colorful sparks as she aimed at Tabitha's food.

"I'll show _you,_ skank!"

Rogue took this as her sign. She bolted up, chair skidding back as she hissed. "_Shut. Up_."

The two girls (as well as everyone else) completely stopped mid-rampage, wide eyed at the food-ladden, absolutely livid Southerner.

Rogue visibly fumed as she turned to glare at the Professor, making sure to provide a clear view of her dirtied front.

"Professor."

Taking only a moment to read the barely concealed "anger" in her voice, the Professor nodded gravely and turned his attention to the girls.

"Jubilation. Tabitha. In my office. Immediately."

Professor Xavier began wheeling his wheelchair out even as Rogue stared at him- stared hard enough to almost bore a hole in the back of his shiny head. Turning his back to the dining room, he stopped.

"Kitty. Amara. If you will join us in five minutes, please."

The room was silent as the two offending girls fumed their way towards the dining room exit. Once they were gone, Rogue sat down, "composing" herself with dignity as well as she could while picking food particles off her shirt and gloves. The room slowly buzzed back to life, a bit more hushed than before.

After a few tense minutes, Remy nudged her with his elbow.

She couldn't contain her devious smirk any longer. "Yes?"

"I'm a bit confused," he confessed quietly.

"Don't be. I have a feelin' I'm gonna get a good night's sleep tonight," she murmured and grinned, picking up her plate. At the corner of her eye, she could see Logan's perpetual frown aimed towards her again. Feeling quite smug, she leaned over and quickly pecked Remy on the cheek- so quick the thick layer of lipstick didn't even smear onto his cheek. "And I have you to thank for it," she whispered in his ear.

Skipping to her room, she decided.

Remy was an okay guy after all.

* * *

And Julian's dirty blonde hair flipped back as he ran into the dagger. His momentum carried him into the hilt and his face stared back into Gambits with wild bewilderment. Instead of taking Gambit down with a massive body tackle, he had been the one who ran into the knife. The realization was scribbled on his face and would be permanently fixated there. Stupidity, regret, anger, foolishness- all on his face for his enemy to see in his last moments, for his family to mourn over forever.

Gambit felt the blood gush out onto his hand which still gripped onto the hilt. A gurgled roar of anger spewed from the dirty blonde's mouth, followed by a deep red torrent of blood trickling from his mouth. Julian grabbed his coat lapels, using the last of his strength to try and take him down. It wasn't enough. Gambit let go of the hilt, dagger still buried inside Julian's chest. Julian collapsed to his knees, then crumpled to his side. Gambit took a step back and looked through his shaking, blood coated hands and also fell to his knees.

Oh _fuck_…

He was groaning as his eyes flipped open. The nightmare had finally come to an end. After nights of replaying small snippets, he had finally reached the end of the nightmare that he never, _ever_ wished to relive, much less finish. And he felt sick now, for many reasons.

He threw the covers back and stumbled through the strangely illuminated hallway to find a bathroom. The hallway looked only vaguely familiar, but he eventually found a familiar bathroom further down the halls. He threw himself against the toilet and began to heave, shaking, trying to calm his racing heart down.

Eventually the heaving stopped; the shaking didn't. His body felt sweaty and was flushed and hot and he couldn't stop shaking. He leaned against the cabinets and clenched his hands, trying to shake the feel of the sticky, warm blood. He ran through the memory from start to finish. It made sense, everything was as he remembered it, but he was still so unsettled.

He shakily stood up and rinsed out his mouth. God, he felt weird and confused. Something was _wrong. _Maybe because that damn memory was so horrid and disorienting. He wasn't a killer and he had killed and the fact was still settling into his conscious.

He dried up and walked to his room. He had a roaring headache- maybe that's why he didn't remember he had locked the door in any case. With an expert flick of the wrist, he jimmied the door open and shut it, locking it again. He flung himself on the bed, still made and cold. His body was still exhausted and on edge and slightly damp. He was figity and itchy and _Dieu_, he needed a cigarette. He rolled over and grabbed his pack from behind his headboard and flung himself onto the balcony. He slumped down against the railing and lit up using his forefinger. He took a long drag.

And started coughing profusely.

He took a breather and looked at the cigarette again. What the heck? He hadn't coughed like that since he was 13.

He looked at pack of cigarettes. Nope, same ones he always got. Then he looked at his hands and at his… painted toes. He looked at her boy shorts and long sleeve shirt. She ran her other hand through her long, silky, slightly curling hair…

"Oh _fuck_," she whispered.

* * *

**AN**: Seems as though she freaked out over nothing, right? Did she really elude the infamous telepath? In any case, it seems like she caught herself in a doozy regardless. Stay tuned.


	18. Spit On Your Neck Fantastic

**Title: **The Wreckage

**Disclaimer: **I don't even own the rights to my soon to be college degrees and will not for many, many, many years… It's called a starving ex-student, and by the state of my fridge, I'm living the dream.

**Pairing:** Rogue and Remy

**Rating: **Teen/Mature

**Warnings:** Contains dark and adult themes

**Summary: **It's what happens when two sides collide. The explosion between what you want and what you need, what's right and what's wrong. It's the wreckage. And it could be so easy. ROMY.

* * *

**The Wreckage**

**Chapter Eighteen**

**Kick-You-In-The-Crotch, Spit-On-Your-Neck Fantastic**

* * *

Remy had his almost invisible-to-the-naked-eye pin ready and handy, inside the key hole, when he felt it. Annoyance, confusion, panic, even a little anger… all emanating from inside his room. At this time of night, there were very few people who would be in his room angry. And these few people angry meant he could be killed.

He reached inside his coat and swiftly fingered a card and charged it. With his other hand he flipped the small hitch inside the keyhole. He opened the door carefully and quietly, peering into the dark room. He added more charge as he swung the door open.

A cursory glance around the room showed no one, nothing. Nothing- except for his slightly ajar balcony door.

He silently made his way towards the balcony, slightly opening it. Was that cigarette smoke he smelt?

"'S just me," came a soft voice. He recognized it instantly.

Remy opened the doors wide and there Rogue was, sitting slouched against the balcony railing, one cigarette endowed hand slung over a naked bent knee. His pack was at her side. She was slightly shaking and clearly covered in goose bumps.

Feeling slightly relieved was an understatement. He wasn't going to die tonight (there was always the possibility of passing out), which was always a good thing to know. He uncharged his card and slipped it back into his coat.

"Well, this is an unexpected surprise," he mused lightly, leaning against the balcony doors. He wasn't one to complain about a gorgeous, slightly lethal girl in his room ever- except she _felt_ off, her voice sounded odd. Up close, he could definitively say she was the source of annoyance and confusion he felt outside his door, except he didn't know why… Besides the fact it was almost 3, she once wasn't wearing much, and she was smoking carelessly right outside of his room… something wasn't right.

"Y'know, I really didn't think you smoked," he replied offhandedly. While he couldn't claim to know a lot about this girl or could even claim he had ever really tried to get to know her, he was sure puffing away on his balcony did go against her constant pastime of stomping out his cigarettes when she was around. He'd already lost about a pack to her distractions and quick reflexes.

"I don't," she murmured, taking another drag. As quickly as he disarmed his initial wariness, he became on guard again.

"What's the special occasion then?" he tried to mask his uneasiness. She lifted melancholy eyes to him while exhaling a plume of pale smoke.

He slightly grimaced. To say he wasn't prepared to see his eyes again was an understatement. This definitely wasn't right.

"Care to explain, _cheré_?" It was confusing. He had only touched her just a tad earlier that day… and she didn't get his eyes then. Why the hell did she have his eyes now?

"Needed the smoke I guess," she explained, eyes cast downwards again. "Sorry, guess I lost track of time. I was gonna leave soon. Didn't mean to surprise you."

He narrowed his eyes. "_Non,_ why do you have my eyes?"

She looked back up at him pained, expecting the question, but obviously not prepared to give an answer. She cringed a bit, reminiscent of a child who feared the first spanking before being beat.

"I know why you're here… why you were exiled," she spoke almost inaudibly, her eyes looking back to the balcony floor dully.

A sickening, everlastingly feeling of falling hit his gut harder than actually being kicked in the gut. Fan-freaking-tastic. Kick-you-in-the-crotch, spit-on-your-neck fantastic, even.

"Rogue…" his agape mouth struggled for an explanation as his thief survival senses took over. Oh _Dieu_… he really wasn't prepared for this.

It was too simple how this had happened and in former times, his brother Henri would have had plenty to say about this situation. Always the opportunistic fool he was; his brief urges to touch had screwed him over and now he was mentally berating himself. If he remembered correctly (which he thought he did before he offered her his mental assistance), her powers worked randomly and she couldn't definitively tell what she had picked up on- and even still, it tended to focus on mutant powers, with human memories as a random second. At least, that's the information Magneto's files had supplied. And the two times he had touched her hadn't been to transfer memories. Apparently her powers weren't as clean-cut as Magneto thought.

And apparently, he had once again screwed himself over by being his typical, overconfident self.

How much did she know and how was he going to get out of this potentially dangerous situation- for everyone's sake? And how was he going to spin this? In every scenario he had created to get himself out of explaining his presence here, she had never occurred to him as a threat to his plan. _Dieu_, he really was stupid.

"Rogue… I…" He was at a complete loss of words. Time was ticking and it only made this situation exponentially worse.

Half-lies. Half-truths. Both were his fall back reverse switch for messes he landed himself in. He could pretend this wasn't as horrible as she thought, only give her glimmers of the truth.

But she knew.

She knew most of what he would dish out.

She really would get to use his advice against him.

And even if she didn't … What lie would satisfy and placate a girl who potentially and unconsciously knew the entire situation from that one touch? Who had enough of him to pick his locks, find his stash, and use his powers long after the fact? Anything he said now would eventually be brought back to the surface since he tended to act a fool around this girl- there was no way he wouldn't tempt fate and touch her, even if accidental. There was no guaranteeing this _wouldn't _happen again.

She shook her head. "Don't," she whispered, flicking the stick idly.

He froze and watched her tired face crease, struggling to find the words too.

What did she _see?_ Did she only see the blood or did she feel the utter guilt and remorse mixed into its tinny smell? Would she know that no part of the situation was intentional? "As much as I wish, I can't take back the things I've done," he finally offered grimly, vaguely waiting for her to supply answers.

She shook her head harder. "Just _stop_," she pleaded quietly.

He fell silent again. The wait was painful. What the hell was she thinking? What was her judgment, her final verdict? This wasn't information to take lightly, to brush off easily. And while his father's reaction had been expected, the same reaction from her would be appropriate and horrifically more painful. To hear the same harsh words of disappointment coming from an outsider… from a decent person's mouth… that would inevitably spread to the rest of the team… he wouldn't be able to handle the added guilt, the self-loathing.

He had to leave.

A true thief never stays at the scene of the crime anyways.

"I'm not judgin' you," she began softly. He couldn't believe her in the slightest- how could you not judge, not even a little bit? "I saw what happen. I just…" her face cringed and she cradled her head with her cigarette hand. "It… makes more sense now that I know it's your memory…but…it's still so mixed up…"

Start the leaving process now.

She couldn't piece it together if he didn't give her the chance.

"So you want me to put the pieces back together? That why you're here?"

She snorted and shot him a dark glare, which was only emphasized by his eyes. "_No. _I'm here because you took over, if you couldn't tell." She picked up his pack and charged it, then retracted the charge. "Hell, I don't even remember how I got here. I woke up here, smoking this damn thing."

Rogue took another drag and leaned her head back.

"It's usually easy to piece everythin' together or to just let whatever I see pass by. But these memories… somethin's missin' and it's been buggin'."

"Sorry for your troubles," he apologized sarcastically.

She ignored him. "And of course, the last puzzle piece clicked into place today. Filled in most of the gaps."

"Have you ever think 'bout lettin' go of the mystery, Thelma?" he suggested flippantly.

She shot him a dark glare. "Of course I've tried. _Obviously_ it can't be helped."

He shrugged. "Then I guess it really can't. Hope you get some sleep soon."

She narrowed her eyes. "Oh no, don't you _dare _brush me off. _You're_ the one who decided to get cocky and kiss _me_, and _I_ get to pay for it by reliving _your_ unresolved issues for two goddamned weeks? I _deserve_ an explanation, Gambit," she spat. There was the anger he had expected, the anger he had walked in on.

"Can't," he shrugged again, flipping a card between his fingers carelessly. "This ain't just my business. This is _Guild_ business. An outsider knowin' 'bout this- you could be killed." Half-lie, technically.

And she knew it.

She stood up and slammed her hands on her hips heatedly. "So what you're tellin' me is it's okay for an outsider to swoop in and save the day but ain't okay for the same outsider to put 2 and 2 together after she's been forced to relive the memory of you killin' Julien?" she deadpanned. He slightly winced at the sharp reminder of his name. "That's some damn stupid reasonin'."

"It is what it is."

She narrowed her eyes angrily. "You aren't even part of the Guild anymore," she jabbed.

"Doesn't matter."

"That ain't the reason you won't tell me and you know it."

"Well, since you seem to know everythin', there's no reason why I need to explain it to you." He shrugged coldly and indifferently.

"I _don't_ know everythin' and that's why I _need you to explain,_" she stressed through gritted teeth.

"I can't explain," he stressed back.

"Can't or won't?" she challenged. He didn't answer.

She stared at him for a moment before stubbing out the burning butt and grabbed the pack.

"Fine," she muttered darkly, standing up. "I hope you don't mind," she waved the pack. "It looks like I'll be needin' them."

She walked past him briskly, stopping at the door. "Thanks for the memories. I'd appreciate it if you kept your goddamned hands to yourself from now on."

And she was gone.

Fuck.

He pinched the bridge of his nose.

That went as horribly as he felt.

And now he wanted- no, _needed_ a cigarette.

He went back into his room and reached behind the headboard- finding nothing there.

'_Dieu,_ it was my last pack.'

Served him right. He lay back down on his bed and rubbed his face. There were still things he needed to find out- who she's told about the dreams, if the Prof or Jean picked up on it, or if she was going to figure out the entirety of the situation. He _couldn't_ bolt now_._ It would look suspicious and he _would_ be hunted down.

He slammed his fist on the bed. He wasn't in the right state of mind to calculate a way out of this situation anyways.

* * *

It was hard not to notice the repercussions of his complete refusal to own up to his past. The evidence was stamped so clearly on her face that his heart actually clenched when he looked directly at her. Every day that passed, Rogue walked more sluggishly around the Institute with an increasingly ghoulish pallor and (in his head) a dangerously growing amount of his secrets. Every day, he figured she knew more and more, but he could never ask. And he knew she would never tell him how far gone he had fallen from her graces, but it was obvious- hell, she didn't even glance in his direction at any point in the day anymore.

He supposed her avoidance was a good thing. And hell, maybe he was overreacting- she wasn't exactly a morning person to begin with, she could be reclusive for any number of reasons, etc, etc.

And when breakfast rolls around and she almost kills Scott/Logan/Hank for taking the last of the coffee, he could still understand her frustration. The girl was particular about her coffee in the morning- even he knew that now.

And when she slams the car door so hard the entire car rattles when she storms back from school, he can understand- high school seems like it would be a hard time and being a mutant doesn't help.

And when she skips dinners altogether, he blames it (he's reaching for anything at this point) on her not feeling well.

But when she lets out a string of curse words in French (which sounded hauntingly similar to phrases he would use in a spout on anger) to one of the new recruits who bumps into her on her way out of the breakfast area, he knew she was cracking. In fact, by this incident everyone in the vicinity instinctively knew this was a day to not be around the Rogue, they just didn't know why.

Kitty sided up next to him, finishing her morning juice. "Sheesh, she's been in a mood lately."

Remy only nodded in silent agreement.

"Any inkling on what's up?"

He simply shrugged, sipping his coffee. Half-lies, half-truths, all around.

"Well, this should be a pleasant day," Kitty retorted, sighing unhappily.

Indeed.

Regardless of his pathetic attempts to ignore his problem, he spent most of the days pondering his dilemma, knowing he needed to clean up after himself.

Of what he could claim to know about her, he knew she wasn't one to go running around with the town gossip. Hell, she wasn't even dedicated enough to her Team Leader Telepath Extraordinaire to expose that he allowed a murderer in the Mansion. But then again, Xavier probably already knew; it made Remy really ponder the validity of a place that allowed all sorts of riff-raff under one roof. It also made him ponder the pull Stormy had with the guy.

And while he knew that small tidbit about Rogue, was it really enough to trust for the long term? He knew the human tendency with such information: it could never go unsaid. There had to be some repercussions, if not later, to such gruesome information. She'd let it slip to someone, some telepath would find out and be horrified, or some reminder from his past would show up, as generally was the case in all extreme cases, and ruin this whole place he got for himself anyways. He'd have to leave, sooner or later.

But still, how much did she know?

Maybe this was for his general curious nature, maybe it was due to his Thief's training: to understand everything about the job in order to do it right. Ultimately… he needed to know everything about what she knew so he could spin it in his favor before he left. He had to know the exact situation he would leave behind.

And then what?

He had never expected to stay at Xavier's forever, but he never expected having to flee so soon. There was no next game plan- but what did he really need for? He was a paid acquirer of sorts, there was a job market anywhere there was a currency exchange for the US Dollar. He idly pondered his next destination throughout the day, as he reanalyzed the security holes of the Mansion (hey, he still had a job to finish, and the Mansion had shitty security). _Paris_- now there was a fine spot. He smiled fondly, remembering his many nights with beautiful Parisian women. _That_ was a city he'd be welcomed (and maybe even appreciated) in.

Remy slid back under the control panel of the War Room, taking a flashlight to his mouth while he fiddled with three colored wires and matched them to his memorized schematics. Getting security up to par (which according to Logan, was just freakin' fine before he entered the picture) hadn't been an exactly hard or lengthy job, but he threw himself into his project with vigor recently. Whether it was to give himself something easy to think about or not… it passed the time.

It passed the time from breakfast through mid after-noon so easily he never heard Logan enter.

"What the hell are you hiding from here?"

Its accusatory undertones mixed with the startling snarl scar-_surprised_ Remy and he banged his head on the control frame in attempts to get out. The potential double meaning wasn't lost on Remy and he so desperately needed to worm his way out of suspicion.

"_Merde_. Coulda messed somethin' up down there, _mon ami_," he glared darkly, rubbing his head.

"I thought the infamous Gambit always heard when someone enters a room," Logan mocked with his arms crossed. He looked amused, yet deeply suspicious. It was evident he came in looking for answers. "Looks like you're losing your touch, _kid_."

"I happen to be workin' on somethin' a bit more involved than runnin' around in Logan's Playtime," he shot back. Maybe if he got Logan so incensed, he wouldn't be inclined to remember why he was there in the first place.

"So involved that this is all you've been working on for the past week," Logan observed shrewdly. "Thought you said this was a piece of cake. Or did you get in over your head again?"

Remy rolled his eyes. "Said it was gonna be easy, not fast. 'Sides, didn't think you'd want this upgrade rushed, _guard dog_." Remy stood up and wiped his oily and dusty hands on a rag, knowing Logan's new nickname would piss him off and send him ranting in a whole other direction.

And it did.

Logan growled and clenched his fist. "Look, bub. I told you to stay the hell away from her."

Remy pretended to ponder this. "_Non,_ actually, I think you told me I was dead."

"You will be if you don't leave her alone," Logan growled again. "Don't think I don't know what you're up to: exploding dinners, dancing way too close, _the Danger Room_. Whatever game yer playin' with her, it better stop and it better stop _yesterday._"

It took a lot to not roll his eyes externally. Why and _how _was everyone still disillusioned by Kitty's Team Romance campaign? He thought he nipped that in the bud with Tabitha and Jubilee. Apparently not. Instead of adamantly denying the annoyingly pervasive and collective thought processes, Remy smirked lazily, leaning against the abandoned control panel. For being perceptive to the oddly increasing interaction between Rogue and himself, Logan sure did take everything the wrong way- just like everyone else. "For the record, maybe she's the one who can't stay away from me. You ever consider that?"

Logan reached over and grabbed Remy by his shirt, yanking him roughly. Remy remained unfazed. "What I'll consider is letting you keep your limbs if you keep them to your goddamn self. She don't need an asshole like you in her life, got it?"

"And what she really needs is someone else meddlin' in her life, _hein_? Maybe another… parental figure?" Remy mocked with a cocky smirk.

Logan released him just as roughly and glared. Remy was almost curious to ask how that didn't get him gutted anyways. Being compared to Mystique wasn't something one should take lightly.

"I wonder," Remy drawled lazily, fingers twitching for a pack of cards to shuffle, "how she'd react to hearin' about this conversation."

"And I wonder how you'd look like without a head."

Remy shrugged. "Just an errant thought," he replied evenly, clearly threatening him. Remy wiped the invisible Logan dust off his shirt and resumed his position under the control panel, knowing that his threat was well noted. "Stick to the battlefield, Wolverine. Daddy duty doesn't suit you."

* * *

Thankfully, Logan's visit was a one-time occurrence. Normally Remy's extreme curiosity would have tempted him to irk Logan more in the attempt to find out what he had approached him for that day; at the same time, he was leaving, so there really was no point.

In other words, he'd rather not further irritate the man/animal who had the power to drag his unfortunate ass back into his self-dug grave.

It wasn't until a few days later that Remy decided it was safe to leave. Enough time had passed in which the entire Institute cleared the eggshells they had been walking up on and resumed normal interaction with a generally crabby Rogue. Also, he figured by now there would be tell-tale signs to indicate he had been ousted as a murderer; thankfully, none of those signs existed. It was clear she hadn't said anything.

It was also clear by the way she refused to look at him she was still not okay with the revelation.

But he couldn't blame her.

He still wasn't either.

But with time, he was sure she'd get over it. He had convinced himself while stuffing his life into a simple duffle that she'd forget the brief period he had entered her life and scrambled her sunny-side up life. Sure, every memory she'd have of him would be tinged red and any time she heard his name, she'd think "JulienbloodmurderexiledThief" (probably in that order), but with time it would fade from her present thoughts and she could go back to restful nights and maybe the smoke would heal from her lungs too.

In any case, he had finished up his duty insofar as completely upgraded the security system, including a comprehensive instruction booklet. That was the least he could do without giving a two weeks' notice, right? And as for the ever lingering issue of his finger in the "Abolishment of All Mutants" pie, he could always fax/e-mail the information to Professor Xavier if needed. They had Kitty as the resident hacker extraordinaire; and with Rogue and Kitty's powers combined, they essentially equaled his skills. They would be fine…

And it's not like he had been contracted to stay. He had just offered to give his expertise in the art of safety measures as well as provide the information that he could from the unfortunate jobs he had been contracted into; in return, he was given a place to stay for the time being. He had made no further commitment for the long term; Xavier knew that, surely.

If he was being completely honest with himself (which he wasn't), he knew he even felt a bit guilty for just up and leaving. The news of him leaving wouldn't faze the younger ones, he knew. But Storm, Piotr, St. John… and if he even mentioned it to Xavier, he wasn't sure he was prepared to politely decline the man's persuasions to stay. Remy was sure his powers of persuasion were delectably refined and even though he liked to consider himself equally charismatic, how could you win a fight of wills against the great Charles Xavier? And at the end of the conversation, Xavier would undoubtedly roll himself around his massive desk for that final, almost apologetic handshake. Xavier was a triple threat for weak consciences- psychologist, psychic, _and_ paraplegic? Talk about boiling live puppies.

Remy grimly took one last look around the room he had been staying at. He wondered briefly how Rogue would react when she realizes he bolted. Would she connect the dots? He hoped for the sake of her sanity, she didn't.

Remy slightly frowned as he walked down the dead halls just as lifelessly. Besides the situation he was barely scraping himself out of, he should be more excited. Gambit didn't settle down, he moved on to the next adventure. _Paris_ was always an adventure and he should be grateful he was being presented the opportunity to get away from all the psychotic girls he had managed to ensnare here.

He needed to perk up before he dashed to the docks. Girls, booze, clubs, sex- everything he so adored were just waiting for him only an ocean away.

Booze. Maybe he should pick some up before he hides away. There's that liquor store just outside of the city limits, right? That's what he'll do.

Adding a fake smile, he duly noted his mood was only slightly uplifted as he sneaks into the garage.

Swinging the duffle bag onto his back, he kicks the stand for his bike up and rolls it towards the exit. No need for a loud exit, he reminds himself.

But before he even makes it half way across the garage, the light flickers on and he's met with clearly annoyed eyes.

"Going somewhere?"

* * *

**Authors Note**: This was supposed to be up during Thanksgiving. I've been failing at this thing called life. On the plus side, Mrs. Fields cookie cups to whoever guesses where I got the inspiration for this chapter's title (without googling it!). More soon.


	19. Don't Poke The Bear

**Title: **The Wreckage

**Disclaimer: **I don't even own the rights to my soon to be college degrees and will not for many, many, many years… It's called a starving ex-student, and by the state of my fridge, I'm living the dream.

**Pairing:** Rogue and Remy

**Rating: **Teen/Mature

**Warnings:** Contains dark and adult themes

**Summary: **It's what happens when two sides collide. The explosion between what you want and what you need, what's right and what's wrong. It's the wreckage. And it could be so easy. ROMY.

* * *

**The Wreckage**

**Chapter Nineteen**

**Don't Poke The Bear**

* * *

Remy broke out into a grin. "Stormy, don't tell me you're just gettin' in?" He wagged his eyebrows suggestively.

But it was clear Ororo was not amused nor just getting in. In fact, it was too clear she had been waiting patiently for him. She looked pointedly at his bike and then lingered on his duffle bag.

"Is there something you would like to share, Rembrandt?"

And he winced. How could he not? Coincidently, the two women he respected because of a bone-deep fear were also the two women who knew his first name and used it liberally whenever he was in a shit ton of trouble. His _Tante_ was force to be feared during his childhood and that (and the fear of wooden spatulas) carried over into his adult life. Storm, on the other hand… how do you not fear someone who could electrocute you before you could blink your eyes shut to the oncoming strike?

He pretended to think for a minute, looking around the garage in the search for something that wasn't there. "Not really," he shrugged aimlessly after a moment.

It was apparent she didn't feel like being even the slightest bit humored. "You have one minute to explain yourself. Feel free to begin."

He heaved a sigh and ran a hand through his hair. "Stormy, you knew I wasn't gonna stay here long. I was just passin' through and then those jobs came up…"

Ororo continued to expectantly gaze at him.

"Did all I could but the trail's gone cold," he shrugged unapologetically, trying to get that ridiculously even look off her face. "It's a good time as any to move on." That sounded reasonable, right? She knew his restless nature, she'd understand.

But her face didn't change. Her eyes studied him intently.

"And you know if anythin' else comes up, you'll be the first to know. Wouldn't just leave my kind in a hole like that, you know that."

He almost started to fidget and sweat. It was like she was trying to read his mind; she was staring so carefully, betraying nothing in her eyes.

"C'mon, Stormy," he slightly whined, mentally begging for her to drop it and let him leave. "Don't be like this. It's not like we'll never see each other again. I'll send you post-cards, _hein_? To keep the old man off your back," he grinned, trying to end this lightly and in her good graces. He extended his arms out, prepared to give her a massive hug so she'd get off _his_ back.

The ends of her mouth curled slightly and her eyes softened to a darkly humored hue. Meeting him in the middle of the garage, she hugged him tightly before stepping back. Looking up at him fondly, she sighed wistfully.

And smacked him upside the head.

"_Dieu_, what was that for?" he winced, rubbing his head.

"For thinking you could feed me your stories," she replied simply, crossing her arms in amusement.

"But did you have to do it so hard?" he grumbled, still massaging his temple.

"What are you doing, Remy?" she ignored him completely.

"I told you, it's time for me to go," he repeated as gently as he could without sounding annoyed, keeping his previous straight face.

Ororo shook her head. "You know, it would have been more believable if you just came by to say goodbye," she stated wryly.

"Knew you'd be waitin' out here," he grinned half-heartedly.

She raised her hand again and he flinched. "What did I tell you about stories?"

Remy made a face. That was a pretty horrible attempt at lying. Then again, this whole plan had been a horrible attempt at getting out unscathed.

"Goodbyes just aren't my thing," he shrugged.

"I didn't think running away was either."

And this was why he didn't want to say goodbye to Ororo. She saw too damn much for his liking.

"Stormy," he shook his head noncommittally. Anything else he said she would see through and convince him to stay with a power that could rival Xavier's. It would be worse, because she was the only family he had now. "I gotta go."

"Why?"

"Because it's time." He gave her a quick kiss on the forehead and flipped his kickstand up again. Wheeling past her, he gave her a salute and a wink.

"She found out, didn't she?" Ororo's light and slightly amused voice stopped him from leaving the garage threshold. He had really hoped leaving at the dead of night would have avoided any confrontation with the weather witch in particular _for this damn reason_.

He turned and observed her darkly for a long moment. "She say somethin'?"

Ororo shook her head morosely.

"Then what?" he asked evenly, trying to keep the impatience out of his voice.

"It wasn't hard to piece it together," she sighed. "The moment I heard Logan bellowing about sexual assault, I knew that it was only a matter of time. And given her recent downturn of temperament…"

He ran his hand through his hair in frustration and resisted cursing in front of Ororo. Again, he was ill-prepared for the consequences of his actions. Without the input of information from Rogue, he hadn't thought anyone would connect the dots. "Who else knows?" he asked miserably.

She appraised him, as if contemplating giving an honest answer. "I do."

"And?"

"Xavier and Logan may have picked up on something amiss by now."

He snorted. That explained Logan's initial accusations. If he knew something, Logan would outright say it, no dicking around. There was a higher likelihood that Logan merely smelt something fishy and acted impulsively, as if he'd get the answers he wanted by threatening. And he just _knew_ that Xavier was playing opossum with the information he knew from Remy. There's no way he _didn't_ know Remy was a murderer. "And?"

"Rogue, apparently."

"And?" He was resisting the urge to grip her arms and shake the answers out of her.

"That's it."

"Are you sure?" He tried not to sound desperate, but he really was.

She evaluated his barely hidden anxiousness with lips upturned in a pitiful expression. "She hasn't told anyone, Remy," she assured gently.

"I know she hasn't," he resisted rolling his eyes. "But these kinds of things, they get out. It's gonna happen if it hasn't already."

"Remy. I am in charge of the gossip central of Bayville. If it gets out, I'll know. Why does it matter so much who knows?"

Remy slumped slightly against his bike and stared forlornly at the cemented floor. He knew he looked slightly pathetic and frankly, he couldn't care to paint his typically confident façade. Ororo knew him at his highest and unfortunately, also at his lowest. Today was one of those low point she was so fortunate to witness; what he tried to fake would only just add to the pitiful situation.

"Gotta know who's gonna keep the secret," he smiled wistfully, his mood losing the tiny threat he intended. It sounded like the extent of the damage was limited to the adults and for that, he was thankful for that, the smallest of miracles. "I'll be on my way now."

"Remy," Ororo slightly chided. "No one is running you off. "

"Yet," he scoffed. "Sorry, 'Ro, but I don't think a murderer would be much welcomed in the ranks."

"We have all done some questionable things in our past. Yours is no different. You acted in self-defense, you are not at fault for what happened."

He rolled his eyes. His past was different. _He_was different. "You saw how they reacted when they found out I was a thief. They couldn't handle this."

Ororo took a moment to contemplate. "The children can be somewhat... quick to scare off. "

"I'm sure Scott would love to hear that," he muttered under his breath.

"But what about Rogue? What did she have to say about all of this?" Ororo ignored his smart assed comments.

Remy slightly grimaced as he sucked in some air. "Well, she sounded a bit confused," he admitted. "She said she wasn't judgin'... but uh, we really didn't get a chance to talk about it..." He scratched his head a little, waiting for shit to hit the fan.

"Didn't as in 'you got sidetracked' or didn't as in 'you ran off so you didn't have to explain'?" Ororo deadpanned.

"A bit of both... but probably more the last one," he confessed finally.

Ororo slapped him upside the head again, this time harder. "Rembrandt Etienne LeBeau, do not tell me you not only assaulted the girl but you refused to tell her why she was having your memories as nightmares," she hissed.

He winced at the slight breeze picking up lifted tuffs of his hair. With a weak attempt at a chuckle, he tried to grin cheekily. "That does sound like somethin' I would do, _hein_?"

"Like a trail of burning cigarette butts," she repeated again through gritted teeth, sounding so much less forgiving than the last time she had uttered those words. And speaking of which, perhaps now wasn't a good time to reveal it was his fault Rogue had possibly picked up his dirty little chain-smoking-while-stressed habit.

"Not only were you going to leave without saying goodbye, you were going to leave her haunted with your past, which you so arrogantly forced on her?" She narrowed her eyes warningly, offering him a chance to change his answers.

Remy threw his hands up in defense before she could realize that's _exactly_what he planned on doing. "Hey, I never meant to give those memories to her. I thought all I was giving her was my powers." His powers and the advice she so needed, but he assumed that last absorption was supposedly their little secret.

Ororo glowered. "It's not up to _you_ what she takes, it's up to _her_."

Icy realization trickled down his back. That made too much sense, actually. Oh, how hindsight would have been perfect that morning. Then he would have eagerly given her a heads up on what she would be rummaging through his mind for.

"So... unless she knows what to look for, she gets a smorgasbord of crap from whoever she absorbs," he supplied dully.

"And if whatever present is highly emotionally charged or not easily forgettable, like certain _life altering memories_..."

Remy nodded absentmindedly as he blew out a long breath. Even though he needed a smoke badly, he knew lighting up would _not_please Ororo. "Seems there was a lot Mags didn't know 'bout her," he muttered.

"There's still a lot we don't know about her powers. All we can understand are generalization, poorly fit rules her mind seems to uphold."

Rubbing his face in fatigue, he looked miserably at the floor. It seems her mind was a whole other caliber of mind-fuck he wasn't on the same level to play with. "How long do you think… she'll have the nightmares for?" he asked almost inaudibly.

"I don't foresee her getting rid of them for many years." She spoke evenly, clearly, without an angry sneer he so deserved.

Fan. Freaking. Tastic.

There went his hopeful plan he could just erase himself from her mind over time.

"So... she's stuck with...?" His throat was suddenly very dry.

Ororo grimly nodded.

"_Dieu_, I didn't think... I didn't know..." It seems as though he really didn't do his research before jetting off to bury himself between some nameless woman's legs. This was more shameful than he could have ever dreamed, really.

"Well, now you know. And while I think it hardly respectful to be talking about her powers behind her back, I felt you must realize exactly what you will leave behind."

He nodded mutely, staring at the concrete in silence.

"Now would you please come back inside? I'd prefer to not force the weather to become warmer before its time."

Ororo motioned inside and he cringed, a slightly unsettling feeling gripping his insides. He shook his head before murmuring a quietly firm no.

"I still gotta go, Stormy."

She regarded him solemnly before smiling sadly. "No one thinks less of you, Remy. Rogue especially will not."

He scoffed.

"The only person who thinks less of you is you."

He really wished he had gun or cigarettes or cards or that handle of Jim Beam he was going to pick up before he hopped town or something right about now. But he didn't. All he had was his thoughts and his damned past.

"I didn't mean to, 'Ro..."

She smiled kindly before wrapping him in a dainty but powerful hug. It was times like these she reminded him of his _Tante_. "We know, Remy."

She leaned back from his grip and gazes at him kindly before patting his arm. "And I'll forgive you for almost running away- just this once though."

He slightly chuckled. "Oh, yeah?" He let a ghost of a smile shadow his face.

And she smiled in amusement as she bopped his nose with an annoyingly small yet powerful jolt of lightening.

He yelped in surprise.

"But I won't forgive you for nearly forgetting to clean up your trail of dirty laundry," she smiled warningly.

Remy rubbed his nose and made a face. "Alright, alright, I'll go talk to her. Just stop with the corporeal punishment, _hein_?"

She patted his flinching face as she guided him back towards the Institute. "Good boy. The sooner the better, mind you. I'd hate for someone to realize what dialect she keeps cursing in and trace it back to you."

Remy slung an arm over her shoulder as they walked inside.

"So, how'd you know I was gonna be out here, anyways? You been stalkin' me again?"

Ororo lightly snorted. "I do remember how thieves work, mind you."

"Even though it's been a while," he ridiculed.

She poked him sharply in the rib. "Logan mentioned something about you being extra shifty lately. I heard you had finished your security updates rather early, so I connected the dots."

"Me, shifty?" he gaped. "If anyone's shifty, it's been him. _Le fou_'s been gripin' about _je ne sais quoi_ every time he catches me around Rogue."

"Ah, yes," Ororo sighed ruefully. "And yet you still test him."

"Well, now he just asks for it."

"Must you? You already cheated Death once," she reminded him drily.

"_Mais,_ if I don't do anythin', he _still_ comes after me. I'm the victim here!"

"I'm sure."

"And if anything, Rogue is too. Papa Bear is actin' too much like Momma Bear, if you ask me."

"And what did I tell you about aggravating him?"

"Go big or go home?"

"Remy," she groaned and rolled her eyes. "How many times have I told you '_don't poke the bear_'?"

"You gonna tell Logan to be like Jesus then?" he smirked, relishing the thought of a saintly Logan.

"I'd like to think I can follow my own advice. You should too," she looked pointedly at his sheepish face.

"You're a lot less fun than I remembered," he grumbled, chivalrously opening the back door for her.

"And I've missed you too," she hummed.

Walking into the silent mansion, a thought hit him quickly and was out of his mouth before he had a chance to screen it.

"Stormy, one last question 'bout her, I swear."

"Oh?" she stopped at the beginning of the staircase.

"When she absorbs powers… how long does that usually last?"

Ororo furrowed her eyebrows at his seemingly random question. "In almost every incident, power retention usually only last immediately after the initial absorption."

Remy nodded, even though that wasn't the answer he had hoped for in the slightest.

* * *

Remy woke the next morning fully dreading the potentially painful and definitely arduous task in front of him. Most days since the incident had been spent stealing furtive glances and keeping a close ear on the shenanigans of the Institute while avoiding the guilty hue of Rogue's seemingly permanent under-eye rings. Now that he had to actually look into her deadened, hallowed eyes, he was starting to feel nervous.

Remy LeBeau wasn't too big on apologies.

Or explanations for his stupid actions.

Or anything compromising his hard-earned man-card.

And what was worse, he had to make the first move. Remy LeBeau only made the first move when… well, you know. Sometimes, people need a push in the right direction. Sort of what Ororo was forced to do to him last night. But now it was like he was going to give Rogue permission to make him feel worse than he already did and he wasn't looking forward to relinquishing that control in the slightest.

The fear of being struck by lightning can be quite a motivator, he found out. Ororo had left him with a quite eloquent yet violent threat to stick thunderbolts places they had no place being lodged if he didn't sort out this problem soon (soon being before Rogue went to sleep that night). And when he had tried to joke about it, she brought Logan's special talents into the conversation… and now he wasn't comfortable looking at either of them in the eye.

When he walked into the Logan's briefing the next morning, he knew he had his work cut out for him. She was long past not even looking in his direction; Rogue tended to stay far away from anywhere he would be, making it easier to avoid her. Sadly, that wasn't what the situation called for anymore.

Remy spotted her leaning against a far wall, detached and seemingly in her own world. He couldn't just walk across a room full of grumbling teenagers and strike up a conversation with her- it would be too suspicious, seeing as they hadn't had public contact for god knows how long. He wondered absentmindedly what everyone made of it- and if they had spun it into a horribly clichéd romantic drama.

He had to be cool when he finally approached her. It would ease conversation if he acted like there was nothing wrong with him, that nothing of significance had happened between them and the fact they had no interaction was something of a random coincidence. Ultimately, he was counting on the "it's all in your head" mantra that girls usually fell back on whenever a guy's behavior was unexplainably bizarre. It was a cheap trick he felt guilty using.

He settled for lightly mingling his way over towards her area instead. Occasionally, he'd glance past whomever he was engaged with and briefly pass over her face. She made no recognition he even registered on her radar.

Logan's entrance cut through conversations so quick you could hear the sounds of backs cracking as they straightened in his presence. He glanced around the room suspiciously, marching over to the controls to set up the room for the morning's sessions. The conversation crept to a murmuring buzz as they watched the Danger Room shift into their morning war scene.

Remy took this opportunity to close in on the wall Rogue dispassionately leaned on. With a few feet between them, it was still the closest proximity they had been in for days. He noticed her eyes twitched in his direction as he leaned casually, pretending to watch the morning complaints rise. He seized the opportunity.

"Hey."

Rogue's eyes blinked slowly at the recognition of the words aimed in her direction. Her expression was too still; he wondered queasily if this was the proverbial storm before the much deserved ass-kicking began.

Instead, Rogue regarded him unperturbedly for a few seconds, before just as slowly, her eyes blinked back to an aimless stare, settling on the ground.

For a moment, Remy debated waving a hand in front of her face to make sure she wasn't sleepwalking. It would be just his luck to try and converse with her while she's wacked out on one of his memories. Before he could nudge her back into reality, Logan's sharp voice killed every opportunity of him further opening the floodgates to his painful death.

Although, when her attention flickered quickly to Logan's stern commands, he almost felt a little insulted she couldn't grant him the same focus. Then again, he kind of deserved being ignored like the common street rat he was.

Remy didn't manage to get near her at all during the training session. She artfully dodged, ran, and even swiped her path clear to get away from him. And even after the session ended, she nipped off before Logan could even call the session officially over. And before he could go run after her and try to beat her to breakfast, Logan's furry hand nearly ripped his arm off.

"What's the rush, bub?" he almost snarled, as if he'd been privy to Remy's intentions to catch Rogue alone.

"Things to do, _mon ami_," he retorted just as evenly.

"And if by things to do, you mean, installing new security panels in every room, then be my guest."

And Remy was shoved into a room teeming with seemingly hundred of boxes of security panels he had only briefly suggested with glowing remarks of being "top of the line" to Xavier a week before. It was apparent Xavier wasn't fucking around with security these days. Just staring at the piles of boxes made him reconsider skipping town.

He wondered if they were rush-ordered just for the sake of keeping him busy and wringing him of everything he was worth before his feet froze up in the Northeastern winter.

Ororo certainly did remember the Thieves' life. Damn schemers.

By the time he sorted through the madness and decided to save the installation for later, he had completely missed the group breakfast and her departure for school. Catching Ororo's pointed expression as he finished up his own breakfast, he had the feeling he was being closely monitored; if anything, vigilant ears were being pointed towards the dormitories.

Grumbling his way through the installation boxes he pondered the various scenarios when he finally did explain every dirty detail of the past year or so. The devil was in the details, after all. Every scenario ended with some varying form of physical injury, coupled with overwhelming need to drink the shame away. At least he knew what to prepare himself for: the inevitable.

Sometime long, torturous hours later, he felt the distinct vibration running through the second floor and knew the Bayville High students had come back. Peaking out the door, he counted the doors until Rogue's room. If he was lucky…

He listened to the voices ringing through the halls and winced when he heard one door slam harder than the others. Even he knew better to step into the swamps when a hungry gator was lurking.

Quickly slamming the rest of the units up, he prepared himself for the unavoidable exposure. Working the rooms around hers first gave him a decent window of time to scope out her movements. So far, she hadn't left or from his keen hearing, even moved much. He wondered if she was sleeping.

And if it would be ultimately safe and productive to wake a sleeping Rogue.

He worked up a deep breath and knocked on the door loudly, knowing there was a high possibility she was listening to her headphones at blaring volumes. About to knock again, the door swung open and he was met with her charmingly unsmiling face. She didn't greet him.

He waved the security box up and gave his most charming and convincing smile. "Maintenance," he grinned.

Rogue let him in wordlessly and flung herself back on her bed, engrossing herself in a novel she had set down. Glancing around casually, he set up camp and began security panel number infinity. The tension was so thick; he could almost charge the air.

"So…" he trailed off, trying to fill the awkward silence tingling at his backside. He had to make it smooth, inviting. He heard slight creaking of the bed and his nerves spiked a bit. He didn't like keeping his back to girls that could kill him. "_Ça va_?"

After a long moment of silence, he wondered if that tingling was her glaring or pointing daggers at his back in poetic justice. Unnerved, he turned around to make sure she wasn't planning a sneak attack.

But she wasn't even in the room anymore.

He groaned and banged his hand on the wall. Yes, now he was certain she wanted nothing to do with him and was actively practicing that right. Too bad he was on a very strict time-line in a very dire life-or-death situation. He had to force this conversation whether she liked it or not; it was just a means to an end.

While he wasn't desperate enough to follow after her (because, really, that's what he should have done in the first place), he realized the opportunities to seem less stalkerish while hunting her down were diminishing fast.

By now she had figured out he was on a mission- that's the only reason she absolutely surrounded herself with various people during dinner. He slightly pouted from a few seats away, watching her with the corners of his eyes. With her recent attitude, this definitely wasn't the norm. But he saw her sneak wayward glances towards the head of the table and he knew she was only putting on a show, giving a half-hearted attempt to make up for lack of social appearances.

However, she was still predictable. She clearly wasn't enthusiastic conversing with others and she clearly was mentally counting down until it was acceptable to sneak off. The first screech of a wooden chair skidding backwards and she almost unnoticeably perked up. Shoveling food into his mouth quickly, he also perked up at her predictability. Not two minutes later, she grabbed her dishes and attempted to sneak off.

Without looking at her, he eased himself out of the conversation (which wasn't unusual; he generally always had after dinner plans) and gathered his plates. His exit didn't go unnoticed; Ororo gave him a pointed warning to probably remind him to "not fuck this up" in more articulate words.

He let the kitchen door swing noisily as to not surprise her and in return, not cause her to surprise attack him. He had a very small window of time to grab her attention undisturbed.

"Can we talk?"

Closing the dishwasher door, she stood up straight and observed him coolly, as if calculating him and what she should fling back to clearly state she didn't care for the likes of murderers. "We could. But I can't seem to spare the time," she sneered saccharinely.

His expression darkened with her cruel throwback. "Can't or won't?"

"Guess I'm gonna let you figure that one out on your own," she smiled darkly as the kitchen door flung open with another satiated X-Men. If it wasn't for making a scene, he'd say something scathing back. Honey, not vinegar.

"Man, she's been in a mood, ehy?" Bobby jokingly nudged Remy. Remy threw him a dark eye roll before leaving just the same.

Remy knew at this point, he had no choice; he'd have to go the creepy, stalker route. He had tried most opportunities to get her alone and since the students were milling about, he wouldn't get the opportunity to just waltz into her room and demand her attentive ear without ten eavesdroppers.

He was annoyed to the point he'd push it in any way possible. If that meant disabling the alarms, climbing in and shoving his tongue down her throat again… It wouldn't be smart, but it would get the job done, _hein_?

Even though that's how he got into this situation to begin with.

Waiting until most of the Institute was down for the count, he trekked the outside of the Mansion (because there was no way in hell he was going to attempt sneaking into her room with Logan's room acting as the ultimate cockblock) and counted carefully to make sure he had the right room. He didn't intend on letting Kitty in on anymore of his life occurrences and potential gossip.

Climbing on the balcony, he realized almost all the work had been done for him.

Sitting on the cold cement with a half-empty bottle of Southern Comfort wedged between her legs, Rogue stared up at him dully, face drawn and emotionless.

Without cringing to admit his guilt, he took a deep breath. He had done this to her. He could at least have the decency to try and fix it.

"Hey."

* * *

**Authors Note: **Woooo for Lizzieturbo and xLebeaux for getting the FRIENDS reference. We should make an old persons section here, srsly. Any who, Starbucks Cranberry Bliss Bars for whoever gets the reference to this week's title. And if you've never had a Sbux Bliss Bar, make it a priority, right after you review plz.

I've been meaning to get back to everyone who's reviewed these last few chapters, but this job thing is killing my morale to do anything besides find fifteen bajillion ways to beg for money. Advice to the kiddies: stay in school. It's just easier, even if you are racking up debt. Anyways, thank you all for reviewing. I read them and they make me do a little jig at my desk. It warms the cockles of my heart, no joke.

Anywho, more soon.


	20. All That Is Healthy and Safe

**Title: **The Wreckage

**Disclaimer: **I don't even own the rights to my soon to be college degrees and will not for many, many, many years… It's called a starving ex-student, and by the state of my bank account, I'm living the dream.

**Pairing:** Rogue and Remy

**Rating: **Teen/Mature

**Warnings:** Contains dark and adult themes

**Summary: **It's what happens when two sides collide. The explosion between what you want and what you need, what's right and what's wrong. It's the wreckage. And it could be so easy. ROMY.

* * *

**The Wreckage**

**Chapter Twenty**

**Patron Saint of All That Is Healthy and Safe**

* * *

"Hey."

His weak greeting puffed into the cold air and evaporated just quickly. Rogue face didn't register that he said something. Another quick look at the almost half-empty bottle and he had to question if she was drunk or not. He had seen her drunk- she was a happy drunk… that one time, at least. And if she had magically turned into an angry drunk…

It would make for one even more interesting night, naturally. He wondered if she remembered he had empathy or if she would be immune to it…

But by the fact she wasn't hissing at him to get the hell off her balcony before she called for Logan or throwing punches or calling him every French explicative stored in their collective knowledge, he took that as a good enough sign to saddle up next to her on the frigid balcony. She wasn't drunk, but how long had she been out here? Did she figure he would come knocking?

"You mind?" he waved a cigarette lazily in the air. She said nothing and he popped it in his mouth and lit it with his forefinger, taking in a deep, satisfying drag. The moment he lifted the cigarette away from his mouth, she plucked it out of his fingertips and took a drag too.

"_Merde_," he groaned, knowing if Ororo or Logan found out she had definitely picked up smoking, his body would be diced and his pieces burnt to ashes. He plucked the cigarette out of her hand and held it away from her.

She scoffed and rolled her eyes, before unearthing a lighter and pack of her own from god-knows-where and began to light one up.

He plucked that one out from between her lips as well, taking her momentary surprise to steal the pack away from her.

"What the _hell_?" she snarled.

There. He'd finally gotten a response out of her. And a rise too. But it was too soon to tell if that was a good thing. Resorting to asshole tactics was like driving a motorcycle in the dark on a road full of potholes- in other words, never a fun road to take and could potentially ruin the functionality of your man-parts.

He stubbed out the cigarette on the cracks of the balcony's cement. "Don't need you pickin' up the habit, now do we?"

"Maybe you shoulda thought about before you assaulted me," she snapped hotly.

He rolled his eyes. Why was the theory he was a rapist so popular lately? "Oh, _calme-toi_. It's for your own good."

"How funny, you think you know what's good for me."

"Besides," he ignored her sneer completely, "you owe me a pack." Then he flipped it over and read the label and cringed. Menthols. Maybe he should give it back.

A facial expression too late, Remy knew she caught his less-than-approving grimace and he forgot how touchy she was about dissing things she liked. "If you came here to be a complete asshole, feel free to leave now. You've done your job," she spat. He noticed her clench her legs tighter around her bottle.

"I'll leave when we're done talkin'." He was going to get this out if it killed him. Which it probably would, either way.

She glared at him. "Fine. We're done," she spat, grabbing her bottle and rising up quickly.

Remy reached out and grabbed her retreating ankle before she could open her balcony doors. "Wait," he called out apologetically.

Looking down, she tried to yank her leg away. "Let the fuck go," she hissed.

"Not until you calm down," he insisted patiently, like he was speaking to a petulant child.

"So, let me get this straight," she almost slammed the bottle down and crossed her arms heatedly. "You just waltz on up here uninvited, take my pack like a complete hypocritical _ass_, and now you're tellin' me to calm down. How about this? Fuck you."

"We need to talk," he patiently replied, still holding onto her leg.

With a hard yank, she broke free and stepped out of his reach. "Well, have fun talkin' to the door, cuz if you haven't noticed, I don't particularly feel like talkin' to you."

"Then just listen," he insisted again, rising up from being splayed on the cement.

"Ah, the listenin' game," she nodded mockingly. "I think that maybe, just maybe, that ship sailed a long time ago. Too bad you missed it. Better luck next time." As Rogue yanked the door open and began to step inside, a lethal bolt of lightning flashed behind his eyelids and he panicked.

"I didn't mean to kill him," he blurted out pathetically. God, not only had he lost his predictability, he had lost his calm and collected suaveness as well.

Freezing mid-step, she clenched her fists and stomped her foot with a guttural shriek before whirling around and pointing accusingly towards him. "I _know_ that, you idiot!" she hissed.

The split second of being stunned at her angry admission was short lived. Remy felt a bubbling anger heat up with her furious name-calling. He had never been too keen on being called anything that demeaned his intelligence or his looks. It was a personal pet peeve that went way back. "Yeah? What else do you think you know?" She was a lot less intimidating when he towered over her.

"No." She shook her head and glowered at him. "You _do not_ get to do this. You had your chance to do your damn," she waved her hands crazily, "_Thieves Guild_ business before you ran off and instead, you told me to 'let it go, Thelma', _as if_ I appreciate being compared to a goddamn Scooby-Doo character," she fumed, poking her finger hard into his chest.

He was really, _really_ starting to regret letting her absorb him that second time now. "Look," he sighed, already exasperated. "I didn't mean to be such a-"

"An arrogant jackass?" she supplied sweetly, hands slammed on her hips.

"_Oui_. An arrogant jackass," he repeated dryly. He calmed himself to only gritting his teeth. This girl was too damn stubborn sometimes. While he knew he deserved the ridicule, it was almost as if she was trying to prevent an apology from even coming out of his mouth. Why was she making this so hard?

"Well, now that we've established that, I can die happy," she mocked saccharinely, grasping the doorknob. "Don't break your neck on your way down."

The door clicked shut and he stared at the glass door, extremely annoyed. He knew sucking up his pride wasn't going to be easy, but apparently he didn't factor in the extent of her anger before attempting to climb Mount Everest naked. Hell hath no fury, and all that jazz.

Walking around in silent circles, he debated his next move. There was just leaving, which had appealed to him immensely before Ororo wrapped a proverbial collar and electric chain around his neck. He could disappear, right? He had never really had to before… but he could make it work. All he would need was a new identity; new identities could be bought like soda out of a vending machine.

But he couldn't change his power signature. Or his scent.

He could wait another day. He could call upon his craftier stalking techniques and she would never know how he could corner her. Hell, she didn't know he had been tracking her when he kidnapped her that one time. It wouldn't be very difficult to rig up his new bo-staff with chloroform again, drag her around an alley, and force her to listen. It would have to be perfectly executed though; she'd screech like a banshee and fight like a hellcat if given the slight inopportune moment otherwise.

Although when all was said and done, she wouldn't be amused by his recycled tactics. And neither would anyone else when she fumed to them later.

Remy stared at the closed door again. There was only a slim possibility she had calmed down in the last few minutes. Was it really worth it to knock and ask nicely?

With gritted teeth, he knocked lightly on the door. And with no answer, he knocked a bit louder. And then again, louder.

About to pound with charged fists, the door opened ominously slow. She glared with an intensity that rivaled Cyclops' when he was rearing to laser some Danger Room heads off.

"What?" she seethed slowly, fists clenched.

"Listen, I know I owe you a bigger apology than I've ever owed anyone in my life," he began lowly.

Rogue's face crumpled into a feral expression and he knew she hadn't calmed down any. "Save it,_ I don't care_," she fumed, clearly about to slam the door into his face.

Something sparked and he felt his face equally harden into an irate glower as his hand snaked out and grabbed her wrist tightly. He forced his way into her room and with sick satisfaction, he watched her expression quickly snap from rage to almost instantaneous and poorly masked fear.

Rogue tugged her hand back and her voice wavered. "Let go, you-"

"Murderer?" he sneered, yanking her closer with a vice grip on her small wrist. "Just say it, I know you've been thinkin' it the whole time."

"You don't know shit," she hissed, swinging her other hand up to surprise slug his face. He caught it just the same and gripped that fist too.

"Cute," he breathed irritably, pushing her up against a wall. He was annoyed beyond words. If he had to use force… well, it was never his favorite façade to play as a baddie, but fear always made for a good motivator.

Rogue averted her gaze as she struggled against his firm clutch.

"What? You scared now?" he rumbled closer to her face. If she wanted to, she could head-butt and all of this could be over. He almost wished she did; he was too ready to have this situation behind him. This reckless monster was hardly the gentleman he was raised to be. "Or are you so disgusted by me you can't even look me in the eyes, can't even be in my presence for five minutes?"

Her eyes flashed towards him furiously. "I can't even believe what a goddamn moron you're bein' right now."

"Flattery will get you nowhere, _chérie_," he purred dangerously.

"You think that just cuz you accidentally killed a guy, I'm _scared_ of you? That I hate you? Get a damn clue, Gambit," she hissed, leaning in even more dangerously close to his face. She was flirting with catastrophe, with her breath tinged with sweet liquor.

"Then _clue_ me in on a few things, would you?" he taunted just as heatedly. "If you're so damn noble, why do you refuse to even give me the time of day?"

She shoved him off as hard as she could and stepped away from the wall. "Why did you?" she countered.

Remy internally cringed. "That was _different_," he stressed, knowing the minute the words left his mouth she wouldn't see it the same way.

"Oh, _so_ different," she snorted. "How _dare_ you have the nerve to leave me askin' questions and then waltz back in, as if _I_ owe_ you_ this conversation. I don't owe you anythin'," she shook her head slowly.

"Rogue-"

"_No_," she interrupted. "In fact, I just gonna give you the same courtesy and leave _you _with all your questions, so that way when you finally decide to sneak on outta here in the middle of the night, you'll maybe begin to understand how I felt when you decided to just run away from your problems."

His hands ran through his hair in extreme frustration. "_Mon Dieu, _why are you makin' this so damn difficult? I'm tryin' to apologize and give you the answers that you need so you-"

"I don't _need_ anythin' from you," she snarled. "And I especially don't _need_ your pity explanations."

"Oh yeah?" he challenged. "Then why do you walk around lookin' like shit, playin' the victim, yellin' at everyone, skippin' dinners as if nobody would notice? As if _I _wouldn't notice? I'm tryin' to _fix_ it, so that you don't go around blowin' shit up but _you won't let me_!"

"You're tryin' to _fix_ me?" she exclaimed. "Dear Lord!" Rogue threw up her hands and walked outside to the balcony. He followed a step behind, realizing suddenly that their voices would permeate the room's wall soon, if they hadn't already. She wheeling around and jabbed a slender finger into his chest. "I've had you inside my head, so I know you're naturally conceited. But hell, I never realized you were this self-centered."

"As much as I appreciate your glowin' compliments, I don't seem to understand what you're tryin' to say," he growled through gritted teeth.

"My problems, my 'lookin' like shit'," she air-quoted snidely, "has _nothin' to do with you_."

Time stopped. "What?" Remy was pretty sure his guilty conscious made up the words that just spewed out of Rogue's mouth.

"That's right. I know this sounds crazy, but my world _doesn't_ revolve around you. When I don't talk to people, when I don't eat- it ain't always because of you, so don't flatter yourself."

Remy was struck dumb and pretty certain it was quite evident on his face.

"In fact, I hate to break it to you, but your memories are just a sad picnic compared to the shit I get to see every night," she continued her rant, her poking finger almost becoming a banging fist on his chest.

He let her, mostly because it didn't register.

"So _excuse me_ if I'm not takin' time out of my day to make sure you feel good about yourself when I can't even- when I'm- I just-" her voice abruptly broke off in an almost strangled, muted scream as she ran her fingers through her hair and rubbed her face pathetically. He could tell the moment she wanted to punch something and being as he was the closest thing available, he let her punch him in the arm one last time without protest. He deserved that, at the very least.

And Remy was stunned into silence as he watched her wrestle with something he couldn't begin to fathom. He watched helplessly as she picked up her almost-forgotten bottle and sagged pathetically to the ground. Taking a sloppy swig, she didn't bother to put the cap back on before setting it back down.

It had never occurred to him in his time of mulling over his situation that he wasn't the source of her resentment, that perhaps she had other issues he just wasn't privy to. Even worse, he had all but been there a few months and couldn't be bothered to even ask or ponder if she was any more or less unhappy.

Hell, he was even more self-centered than he initially thought.

After a few moments of just watching her drink from the bottle, he sat wordlessly back down next to her, idly noting that they had switched positions from earlier. Back against the balcony, he brought out his deck of cards and began shuffling languidly. The next few minutes of swishing silence wasn't necessarily awkward. It wasn't that the unresolved tension wasn't thick enough to be awkward, it was just the volcano had exploded and they were just basking in the heated chaos.

The way she sat, still with arms reaching for the bottle every so often, not necessarily back to her formerly expressionless apathy, he imagined that the nasty confrontation had never happened, like he had a clean slate to work with. It was like he had just stepped onto the balcony, still intent on talking to her, but with honey, not vitriolic vinegar.

"Hey."

A short snort escaped her lips. "Hey," she repeated in almost disbelief, clearly not exchanging pleasantries. She wasn't on the same page as him, apparently. "That all you got?"

Without realizing, Remy's mouth curled into his traditional suggestive smile. If he remembered correctly, he was good at honey. "_Chérie_, I got a _lot_ more than that."

A choked, gurgled laugh bubbled up from her throat and Remy had to wonder briefly if she was heading towards hysterics now. He was sure she'd bite his hand off if he even attempted to take the bottle from her. It would be the equivalent of taking her cigarettes- and thus, back on the same dingy road he had barely managed to crawl out of with only a sore but intact arm.

Rogue's helpless laughter died down and she leaned her head back, staring morosely at the sky. After a few minutes, she took a quick swig and tilted the bottle in his direction, clearly offering to share for the first time all night.

"_Merci_," he murmured, taking the bottle from her and swigging quickly. If alcohol was needed to calm the raging spitfire, he would definitely need to make a mental note to use it to his advantage in the future.

With a straight face, he examined the bottle. "What makes it so special?"

"'Parently it's got bourbon in it."

"Does it now?" he nodded appreciatively, taking another quick swig before handing it back. "It's not bad."

The lapsed into another weighted silence, broken only by wordlessly passing the bottle back and forth.

"You know, I can't find your brand cigarettes anywhere," she mused finally. It was if she was taking just as much care to tread lightly over unimportantly neutral and self-serving topics, clearly not intending to discuss anything heavy. Yet.

"Imagine that," he replied vaguely, clearly not surprised.

"They special or somethin'?"

"So special you can't find them just anywhere."

"Oh yeah?" she mused conversationally. "Where do you get them from, then?"

He shrugged noncommittally. "I know a guy who knows a guy."

"How informative," she replied dryly.

"Unimportant information. 'Sides, smokin' ain't good for you." With a flick of the wrist, her pack of cigarettes re-emerged and he examined the box. For even the virtue of smoking, she could at least choose something… better.

"Thanks, Logan. I'll keep that in mind." He could hear her eye-roll.

"'M serious. Papa Bear and I, we can handle it. But you can't heal from these like we can," he insisted.

"If you'll use your brain for one quick minute, you'll realize I can," she reminded him deprecatingly. "One quick touch and I'm all healed…"

"Is that so?" His anti-smoking/stop-Rogue-from-smoking-before-Ororo-found-out-he-started-her-addiction campaign wasn't going so well.

"Tried and true," she muttered.

"But still…"

"Okay, patron saint of all that is healthy and safe," she muttered, hand reaching out and snatching her pack back.

"Who the hell got you these anyways? And that?" he motioned to her bottle. "Last I checked, you aren't even 18 yet."

"I know a guy who knows a guy," she replied back sweetly.

"Touché," he admitted.

"Don't worry," she swigged and smiled unrepentantly. "Even if I'm caught, I won't blame it on you and your less than savory influence."

"I doubt that would matter," he muttered, knowing the minute the staff found out, he be set on fire faster than Pyro could conjure up his own demonic doppleganger.

The moon was dipping farther towards the horizon and he knew skirting around issues was no longer an option.

"So, tell me, _chérie_," he stretched and wrapped an arm loosely around her shoulders. It had occurred to him that she was freezing, just not aware of it.

She stifled a laugh again. "Seriously?" He noticed she didn't try to take his arm off, something she would have done at any other time of the day. Interesting.

"How is it that I find someone as _belle_ as yourself alone on a balcony doing… _questionable things_?" he wagged his eyebrows.

"Remy," Rogue groaned with a tired sigh. Clearly, she saw through his suggestive undertones. "Are you _really_ gonna do this?"

At least she was back to a first-name basis. It was a relief to hear something than a variation on "asshole."

"And by this you mean…" he grinned. He was hoping his sexual tone would ease her into a more cooperative conversation.

But again, she wasn't amused. "Just drop it, okay?" she sighed.

"Rogue, are you okay?"

"Damnit, I said, _drop it_," she demanded flatly.

"You can't expect me to just let this go. It's pretty obvious you're still unhappy."

She scoffed. "What, did you make that deduction while you were silently stalkin' me, makin' sure I didn't tell everyone your secret?"

"Rogue," he shook his head, not even knowing how to broach this with a suggestive comment.

"I know that's what you were doin', y'know," she accused. "Watchin' me, stickin' around long enough to make sure it didn't slip." She shook her head before finally turning her head and marveling sadly at him, dead in the eyes. "Jesus, you actually thought I was gonna tell someone, didn't you?" She was clearly insulted.

"No," Remy shook his head adamantly. "I knew you wouldn't tell. But these things, they got a way of sneakin' out into the open."

"There's a chance it still could."

"_Oui_," he muttered darkly. "Didn't realize it at the time but I know that now." He ran his free hand through his hair. "Hell, apparently I didn't even realize how your powers worked."

"Yeah, well, neither do I," she muttered glumly, twirling the bottle around on the ground uncomfortably.

"I am sorry," he finally muttered.

"Don't be," she replied unapologetically. "It ain't your problem."

"_Non_, it's not," he shook his head. "But I'm sorry for assumin' how your powers worked, for not even askin'. Had I know…"

She shrugged and he could see it was a struggle for her to remain nonchalant. "Occupational hazard. I'll live."

"You sure 'bout that?"

"I've made it this far, haven't I?"

"Yeah, but for how much longer?"

Abruptly, she stopped twirling the bottle and heaved another sigh. Rogue leaned forward, letting his arm fall off her shoulders, and scooted away.

"Look, I don't know why you're suddenly so interested in my non-existent problems when it seems like you got more issues than National Geographic," she countered.

"So what? You sayin' I not allowed to be interested in your life at all?" he asked wryly.

"There's a difference between bein' interested and makin' too big a deal out of somethin' that ain't even there," she defended hotly. "If you're just gonna coddle me like everyone else, feel free to grab a number 'cuz I got enough people in my life doin' that."

He snorted. "I've noticed."

"Then you'll have noticed I don't need another person constantly askin' if I'm gonna break sometime soon," she snapped.

Remy tilted his head and studied her for a moment. While there were a number of things he wanted to counter with, it would ultimately just place him in the "just like everyone else" category. A constant source of annoyance, to which all future responses from her would be a variation eye-rolling, scoffing, and lying. She would just be another angry Southern Belle- and hadn't he had enough of those?

He nodded slowly, finally understanding even just the smallest of her idiosyncrasies. "My apologies, _ma chérie_," was what he finally decided to answer with, with that irresistible, silly smirk oozing back onto his face.

It only served to make Rogue more suspicious, clear as she narrowed her eyes. "Whatever," she rolled her eyes and leaned back slowly. It was apparent she was still tense and defensive, yet grateful for his unquestioning acceptance of her strange logic.

Remy resumed shuffling the cards lazily as she settled back into an alcoholic fog. Wondering briefly if that was reflective of his influence as of late, he banished thinking about the past. Wasn't it clear she was going to let it go- all of it? And that's what he should do as well. She was taking the lead and so should he.

But something about this situation still troubled him. He was reminded by yet another flash of lightening sparking behind his eyelids.

"'Ro sent me here to make sure you knew everythin'."

With a near unperceptive sigh, she closed her eyes shut. "Remy…" she almost whispered, as if the burden of his sins was too much to bear. There was no need for this anymore, he figured, but he was self-serving to a fault.

"I don't know how to fill the gaps," he confessed honestly, honestly hoping she would guide this confessional.

After a long, melancholy silency, Rogue swiveled her head to face him with sad eyes. "Do you really want to do this?"

While he hadn't understood her hesitation before, he realized her meaning now. There wasn't an apparent misery to be the keeper of his secrets as much as a guarded acceptance to let him open up the darker sides of his past. It was sweet, in her own angsty way.

"_Oui_," he murmured, falling back into his protective tongue.

Rogue nodded once and proceeded to spin her bottled absentmindedly. When she didn't provide any guidance right away, he likened the anticipation to watching the skin being prepped while the needle was shining under the harsh hospital lighting. It was mouth-drying and he resisted clenching his fists.

"Belle," she uttered. He couldn't tell if it was a question or a statement. "Why were you two fightin' over her?"

It took seemingly hours to get her to sit and listen but now that she was pinned, she wasted no time stabbing the heart of the matter.

"Belle…" his voice cracked. He hadn't uttered her name in months. "She was Julien's sister."

"And?" Her fingers twitched unsystematically.

"My fiancé." The bitterness was as clear in his voice as was the vile in his mouth.

He had to have imagined the fleeting surprise on Rogue's face; her furrowed brows smoothed over quickly to calm blankness. "And?"

"And it was arranged." Another flashing flicker and slight nod. Was she pleased? Disgusted?

"Why?" she breathed, still blankly fixated on the floor.

"To unite the Guilds." The bitterness was back.

The twirling had stopped before the interrogation, being replaced by small lip movements. Was she thinking of more questions to interrogate him with? Or was she arguing with herself about the validity of his claims?

The wait was too long before he blurted out "What are you thinkin'?"

"Accident," she breathed, eyes finally flickering back to life. "It was an accident, but she- they all thought it was just a way to get out of it."

He nodded grimly.

"But it was an accident."

It wasn't a question; it was a clear statement that left him sighing and tilting back his head to see the morning stars glittering with the pale, new morning. "_Ouais_."

* * *

To be completely honest, Rogue was frightened.

The first time her powers had really spun out of control, she had no idea what was happening and no idea what was going to happen. But really, she was mostly angry about everything. Angry and betrayed. By everyone. And that fueled her freak-out like a match to gasoline.

But the present situation was a completely different.

She knew what should be happening.

But it wasn't happening.

In fact, it was spiraling fantastically beyond her control, beyond her worst nightmares.

And she was scared.

Scared to sleep, scared to leave, scared to do anything.

She had been a strong enough person (at one point, right?) to deal with the horrendous memories and nightmares of everyone else around her. She was strong and stuck it out, doing everything in her power to rebuild and control what she could.

But at some point, that point being now, she realized waking up as someone else was a completely different ballgame. A ballgame she never signed up for.

And she was frightened.

And of course, waking up thinking she had someone else's blood on her hands didn't help either.

Compounding the situation was enough to send her reeling in the toilet, which she had done on a few occasions this past week, this past year. She thought very little of Remy when she could.

But it was horribly difficult.

She had always prided herself on doing what she had to- after all, that was her upbringing. She could live outside the law. Her legal morals were flexible depending on the situation.

But when it came to humans and real people and real human lives... when it came down to watching it…

But the memories were clear and he had explained what really needed to be explained. It wasn't premeditated and she knew that and was okay with that. After all, how many people had she rendered unconscious, even if accidental? And even still, how many people had she intentionally sent into a coma?

She wouldn't ever agree with death... but she was okay with Remy, with what he did and what he made her see. She was okay. Maybe a little too okay with it.

But.

But she wasn't okay with the horrible reminder it dragged along with it. She was angry- wrongly angry at _him _for bringing this to her attention, livid at herself for not being able to control it, pissed at life for the reminder that she was spiraling towards another self destruction. She wasn't prepared for it– because she knew instinctively it would be an explosion more horrendous than the last.

And perhaps, she notes as she dully watches blood drip down her pink forearm, that the self destruction would be thorough this time.

* * *

**Authors Note**_**: **_Whaaaaaa? Did anyone see where this was going? I sure didn't. Anywho, I'm just going to try and accept that this time line is just not going to work with real world time-line, as much as I would have liked to stay on top of the holidays. Regardless, we're getting to the more action-y but still feel-goody parts of the story, and I don't think I'll be able to write it all out fast enough, I'm so esssscited. Ye have been warned.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed and added me on alerts/favorites lists. I'm not surprised no one got last week's title, it just proves I need to stop watching re-runs while late-night job hunting. It's a line from _That 70s Show, "_Prank Day", to be specific. The gang just covered Red in oatmeal ("That oatmeal was for the hobos!") and Kitty urges Eric "don't poke the bear" and persuades Red to "be like Jesus, Red!". Just a bit of midnight entertainment from one screen to another to yours. Feel free to review, as usual it makes me happy-happy.


	21. We're Talkin' Video Games, Chérie

**Title: **The Wreckage

**Disclaimer: **I don't even own the rights to my soon to be college degrees and will not for many, many, many years… It's called a starving ex-student, and by the state of my bank account, I'm living the dream.

**Pairing:** Rogue and Remy

**Rating: **Teen/Mature

**Warnings:** Contains dark and adult themes

**Summary: **It's what happens when two sides collide. The explosion between what you want and what you need, what's right and what's wrong. It's the wreckage. And it could be so easy. ROMY.

* * *

**The Wreckage**

**Chapter Twenty-One**

**We're Talkin' Video Games, **_**Chérie**_**, Not Porn**

* * *

"Are you totally sure you don't want to come? My parents would _so_ love to finally meet you," Kitty asked again, a slight frown on her face.

Rogue shook her head and declined as politely as she could for the ten billionth time. "Kit, don't worry 'bout me. I'll be fine. Besides, you know how I like some peace and quiet once in a while."

Kitty frowned harder, almost pouting. "Don't think you can put off Kitty-Time forever. I'll get you to come home with me. _It's going to happen_." She poked a petite finger into Rogue's ribs.

Rogue rolled her eyes. "I'll remember that. Now get goin'. I know I heard Logan hollerin' for you ten minutes ago."

Kitty sighed. "Yeah, I'd better." She grabbed Rogue for a surprise hug, which in all 20/20 hindsight she should have expected. Pre-vacation goodbyes always ended this way. "Don't get carted off while I'm away," she chirped.

"I'll try," Rogue rolled her eyes again. "Considerin' I'm all but under house arrest, I'm sure I'll be alright."

"And considering you'll have your knight in shining…dirty… trenchcoat…" Kitty's teasing faltered. "Ugh. Remind me get Jubes to help me persuade him to get a better sense of fashion when I come back."

Rogue only stared pointedly. "Persuade him or bug him incessantly until he wants to blow himself up?"

"Eh, is there a difference really?" Kitty shrugged happily as she walked past the kitchen door, slapping her head in sudden remembrance. "KURT!"

Rogue whirled around to see Kurt's head pop out of the swinging kitchen door, mouth stuffed with a cold drumstick. "Ja?"

"It's time to go," she tapped her leg impatiently, pointing to her suitcases.

"Aw, man," he sighed, drooping miserably on his haunches. "This is the tenth luggage run today! Break is only a few days long- why do you girls have so much luggage?" he moaned.

"Oh, Kurt," Kitty smiled and patted Kurt's cheek condescendingly. "Don't think. Do."

Kurt grumbled something incomprehensible under his breath.

"And I'd hurry. Mr. Logan sounded angry," she grinned.

Kurt slapped his head. "And you aren't the ones who have to stay with him the entire trip!" Kurt moaned as he ported away.

"Woe is you, with useful powers," Rogue muttered under her breath. Kurt, as usual, was an undeniable asset to the team, even if it was for dropping off X-Men from thousands of feet in the air.

"Seriously, are you going to be okay?" Kitty dropped her voice.

"Yes," Rogue stressed. "It's not like I've never been here alone before. I'll be _fine_." And she would be- it wasn't loneliness she suffered from, after all.

"Suit yourself," Kitty sighed as she entered the opening elevator. "Have fun being alone with Remy-kins all week!" she exclaimed loudly as the elevator doors closed her in.

"Have fun bein' a _brat_!" Rogue hollered back at the metal doors. She walked back into the kitchen and jumped back in surprise when Kurt re-ported right in front of her.

"Jesus, Kurt!" she cried out. One more step and she would have drumstick smeared down her shirt, not to mention irreversibly tangled in some unbreakable heap.

He grinned sheepishly. "Sorry. Forgot my dinner. It's going to be a long trip," he explained, grabbing two, freshly prepared foot long subs with the remains of last night's deliciously catered deli meats.

"Please say there are still leftovers for the rest of us," she deadpanned.

"Of course! I'm not _that_ much of a pig."

Rogue tapped her foot on the ground, clearly not able to believe his claims. "After seein' you yesterday, I beg to differ." Five plates. _Five_. And _one_ was just turkey and _skin_.

"Hey, man. An American holiday just for eating? When in Rome," he sighed happily.

"Well, at least I know that if the Blackbird goes down, it isn't everyone else's luggage to blame," she smiled sarcastically.

"Ja, it's all these guns I'm carryin'," he grinned, leaning up on his haunches and flexing his arms.

"More like sand-bags and a food baby," she smirked teasingly while poking his stomach.

"It's not a food baby!" he exclaimed indignantly, rubbing his slightly protruding stomach. "I'm just _protecting_ my six-pack."

"Protectin' your six-pack from what? Developin'?" she smiled sweetly.

"Ha, ha," he stuck his tongue out childishly, then almost immediately whipped around with a joyous smile on his face. "Wait! I almost forgot!" Kurt opened the fridge and reached into its deep recesses, excavating a large 2-liter bottle of soda. "Drinks for the trip! Thanks for the reminder!"

Rogue opened her mouth, about to remind him that soda and not having an on-board bathroom probably didn't mix well, but instead closed her mouth with a simple smile. "Glad I could help," she replied simply.

Kurt stood up straighter and mockingly saluted her. "Herr Logan is waiting. Are you sure-"

"Yes, I'm sure, Kurt," she repeated patiently. Maybe she should consider getting a t-shirt with all of her responses written on the front. It would probably save time, maybe even lives.

He sighed. "I do not like to think you will be alone here," he admitted.

"I won't be alone," she shrugged. "Remy will be here, Hank and the Prof, too."

His brows furrowed. "And I do not like to think you will be alone here with _Gambit_."

She rolled her eyes and flicked him playfully. "Ya'll are overthinkin' things. I'll be _fine_," she sighed. "No go. Like you said, you're with Logan the longest."

"_Mein Gott_," he groaned.

"At least he can't make you do DR runs so high up."

"But there's enough room for pushups!"

She cocked her head and thought about the layout of the Blackbird. "Is there really?"

"Ja!" he exclaimed, panicked as he furiously rubbed his arms in horrid memory. "And I want to use my arms during vacation this year!"

"Fine," she sighed, opening a cabinet and fishing around for a box of old-as-dirt box of Raisin Bran. Opening it, she pulled out a single beer. "Give him a peak and use it as a reward for good behavior."

His eyes widened at the revealing of a hiding place. "How did you- oh wait. Nevermind."

"Now go," she shoved it in his hands amidst the food.

"Be safe, _mein schwester_," he nodded solemly before giving her a one-handed, tailed hug.

"You too," she murmured to the puff of smoke.

Rogue took a long look around the abandoned kitchen and sighed. Typical chaos. Shortly after school had ended, the students had rushed in for a quick after school snack before loading up the Blackbird and zooming off to wherever their family was for Thanksgiving break. The carcasses of their hectic eating remained littered on the floor. If she hadn't lived there for so long, she would have assumed there was an attack on just the kitchen, a brutal attack.

Rogue began the slow process of cleaning the massacre of crumbs and dishes alone, realizing resentfully that there was _literally_ no one else to do it. Hank and the Professor were still around, probably just for her sake (which made her feel guilty and pathetic for being the mutant orphan that ruined holidays); even Ororo had travelled off in hopes of persuading Evan to spend the holiday with family. She shivered as she surveyed the darkening horizon out of the Institute's expansive kitchen windows. It wasn't bitterness that left her feeling slightly ill at ease; it was that she was mostly _alone_ in the huge, creaking mansion. And while she had never minded being alone, she felt alone and _watched_.

The Professor had made it clear that she was not to leave the grounds without a chaperone. Not that she wouldn't heed his warning- she knew perfectly well what happened when the stupid girl decided to split up with the group even though she knew a serial killer was out to get her and her little dog too. And it wasn't like she really had many places to go or people to go with either. Whenever she had the Mansion to herself, she tended to just enjoy music at blasting volumes in her room or taking a complete monopoly over the deliciously clear television and DVR.

Also, somewhere in the entertainment console was an Xbox- and in someone's room (say, Bobby and Roberto's room) was Modern Warfare 3. It was a joyous, immediately uplifting thought and she wondered idly if she could convince Remy to lift it from their room for the next 5 days.

And even more idly, she wondered if he would play with her too.

But she banished that thought quickly. It was too weird of a thought to stay in her head comfortably.

Tired from her cleaning extravaganza (seriously, would it kill a superhero to use a damn napkin once in a while?), Rogue flopped herself gleefully on the couch and began flipping through the channels, reacquainting herself with the absurdity of modern media. MTV had become especially appalling in living up to its name. In even her most neutral opinion, flashing brief names of artists and songs during "emotional/climactic/wtf" moments of teen motherhood hardly qualified as fulfilling her musical expectations.

She got a kick out of the commercials though. _"I'm practicing abstinence. But not by choice." _

Rogue also got a slightly less amused kick out of coming to the realization that living in the "real world" now consisted of living on a beach resort and not doing jack _shit_ for an entire summer. It was reassuring to know her life was considered fantastically beyond the realms of sensibleness.

A few boring hours later (there was really nothing worthwhile to watch on a Wednesday night until American Horror Story, and even then, that was going to be recorded to be watched in the dead of night) and she debated searching for Remy- just to get him to find the game in the boys' room, that is. But by this time, she had debated a lot of things, mind you. And she realized doing any one of those things would exhaust future possibilities of entertainment. That and reading didn't sound too entertaining at the moment. Shooting hoards of enemy brains out? _That_ sounded stimulating.

But was it worth trying to track him down? After all, she hadn't seen him since…

When was the last time she saw him?

She narrowed her eyes in annoyed remembrance. This morning.

"_Would you mind dippin' your finger in my coffee _un peu_, _chérie_? I think I made it _too_ sweet today."_

Ass.

She fumbled through the entertainment system and took out the various games. Per the Prof's ruling, video games played in the actual recreation room had to be rated Teen. However, as every gamer knew, most games worth playing on the Xbox were rated Mature. The boys were still trying to get the Professor to overrule his Institute regulations, with the argument that they practice killing each other before breakfast everyday; for the time being, they stuck to sneaking video games in and out of the rec room.

And if Rogue knew the way lazy boys (specifically her lazy teammates) thought, she knew they would have gotten tired of transporting contraband to and fro. They would have just hidden the DVD somewhere "inconspicuous".

Like in another DVD case.

One cheaply bought just for this purpose.

So Rogue played the "one of these things is not like the others" game, rifling through dozens of DVDs and Blu-Rays quickly. For having most residents over the age of fifteen, there sure were a _lot_ of Disney Blu-Rays stored away.

For ease, she knew she could rule out gory chick flicks and cartoons. That left the action/adventure, subsectioned into doomsday, superhero, or general male wishful thinking. She was fooled with opening _Snakes on a Plane_ and the first _Hulk_ case. Sadly, their respective DVDs were in fact, inside the box. Rogue cringed.

Continuing her search, she found the "educational" documentaries that had gathered a fine film of dust…

But then she found a copy one of the worst movies ever: _From Justin to Kelly_.

Not even the squealing, Kelly "It's like she's singing the words of my _diary_" Clarkson fans of the Institute touched that abomination of a movie.

She popped it open and grinned. Gears of War 3- just as fantastic and she had wanted to try it as much as Modern Warfare. Before putting back the decoy, she spotted _Skyline_- possibly the most tortuous waste of precious youth. Curious, she opened it up.

And closed it immediately and shoved it into the recesses of the console. _That_ definitely went way beyond even the most mature of ratings.

It also definitely made the "things to use as potential blackmail later" checklist. She made a note to utilize this information next time Bobby forgot why he didn't play pranks on her.

Happily, she popped the DVD into the tray and flipped back onto the couch, splaying out and taking as much space as she so damn wanted. Taking up an entire couch in the Rec Room was pretty much unheard of, so she was going to take this solitary luxury and wring it for all it was worth.

And speaking of indulging in forbidden behaviors, Rogue took a quick look around, foolishly knowing that she really was the only one around. Even still… she pulled off each finger of her glove slowly, as if tempting fate to find some reason to stop her. Then the other glove. Then she tucked them nearby… just in case. With a relieved sigh (those gloves got sticky with sweat most times), she picked up the control. She was going to enjoy this.

* * *

Five hours later and she had only moved to the direct middle of the couch, glaring intently at the oversized screen, every occasionally taking a chug from her own two liter bottle of soda. No one was around to witness the sugary offence, so she felt perfectly justified in bending some of the Institute rules. It wasn't like she was in the foyer, sock-surfing in her underwear…

Yet.

"Oh _hell_ no!" She amped up her button-mashing. She had worked _too long_, _too hard_, _too diligently _in the last few hours to be taken out like this. "Yeah, that's right. Take that you, sonofa-"

"Language, _chérie_!" a smooth voice in her ear purred. She shrieked and missed her target as she jumped away from the offending voice, keeping her hands far away from the warm body. "What will the neighbors say?"

There had been many things said and muttered in the last few hours that Rogue was sure could be observed as talking to herself/psyches. She had enjoyed the unadulterated freedom to speak as she like, and completely forgot there were still people around. Namely one Remy LeBeau, who often liked to tease her mercilessly. Damn him for his stealthy, eavesdropping ways. She was mortified to think of how long he had been observing her.

Rogue calmed her heart as she slammed on the pause button and whipped her head to glare at him angrily. "What they'll _say_ is, 'I wonder who's that poor mutie in the body bag. Oh well.'"

With a short bark of laughter, he hopped over the back of the couch and landed perfectly beside her. A little too close, perhaps. "Maybe," he mused, taking the controller out of her bare hands without any hesitation or pondering of his safety, "you've been playin' this for too long. You know what they say about video games," he suggested, resuming her game play with a quick button press.

"That they let you live out the wildest fantasies you couldn't possibly do in real life?" she replied saccharinely.

"We're talkin' video games, _chérie_, not porn." He turned his head and grinned wildly. "That is, unless you _want to_."

"Of course, I forgot you were the expert on such matters," she smiled scathingly, unfazed with his innuendos. God, was she really adding to this conversation?

"I'm an expert on many things, _chérie_, but porn?" he smiled devilishly. "Never found it relevant."

"You do seem to be the lone wolf type," she mused sarcastically, realizing she was treading on territory she was particularly not well versed in. Sure, she had the memories and she overheard conversations, but for actually participating? It was like preparing meat even if you were a vegetarian; it was singing Irish drinking songs with a mug of O'Douls.

It was like talking about sex while you were an eternal virgin.

But still, it didn't feel weird around Remy. And that was weird in itself.

"And you seem the _S&M_ type," he replied cheekily.

She suppressed a groan. So much for keeping _that_ incident hush-hush. Why she had thought she could keep _that_ conversation a secret from himwas apparently too farfetched and absolutely absurd. She was going to slowly torture Jubilee for this.

But Rogue let a knowing smirk play the corners of her lips. She could disarm, too. If she had learned anything from his lecherous presence over the last few months, it was to act unexpectedly to expected stimuli.

Slowly, she stretched herself back out onto the couch and moaned, letting her socked feet reach out and rest on his lap. Leaning languidly against the couch arm, she purred suggestively as she stroked her foot against his leg sensually. "What can I say? I get lonely and need somethin' to… _pass the time_."

Remy missed his kill horrifically. Did he actually grimace too?

But there was no time to gloat.

"I got a couple ideas if you _need something to pass the time_," Logan's voice rang icily over the couch and jumped a little. She almost winced and felt her face flush horribly. She hadn't been aware he was back so soon. How had she not heard him stomping around the Institute? Or how had she not even felt the Blackbird touch back down? Had video games really sucked all her attention away?

"And if I run out of my own, I'll be sure to ask for yours," she replied scathingly. She saw Remy's sidelong glance at her. Yes, she was being especially sarcastic and pithy but for the sake of sounding childish… Logan started it.

Logan only snorted, clearly not amused. Without turning her head to see him leaning ominously over the couch, she could hear his annoyed stance. And to think, she was being _nice _when she gave Kurt the beer bottle to quiet the itchy annoyance of carpooling mutants to and fro. She would remember this, yes she would.

"You ready yet, Cajun?" he growled.

"But I was just gettin' good," he playfully whined.

"I'm sure. Hurry yer ass up." _Now _she heard him clomp away.

Remy fake heaved a sigh and paused the game. With a slow, satisfied grin, he looked over at her deviously as he grabbed both her feet tautly. Rogue forced herself not to cringe and curl into herself, away from his touch- it was exactly what he expected, for her to squirm. Running his firm hands up her legs slowly, he caressed her calves…

And quickly dragged her towards him. She slightly squeaked as he loomed over her. The game was over and he was _too close_.

"Nice try, _chérie_," he smirked simply, leaning in far too close to her face before getting off the couch. "Try not to get into too much trouble _by yourself_, _hein_?"

Remy whisked off and left a cloud of his smoky scent behind. She watched him go the exact route she had heard Logan take and moments later, she heard the sound of two motorcycles leave the grounds.

Forgetting their atypical game of chicken, her eyebrows furrowed at what really just happened. It was… odd. Did… did Logan and Remy just leave… together? Were they… bonding? She checked the time on the marketplace menu and was confused even more. It was _late_. It was after midnight and technically Thanksgiving Day. It was around the time Remy usually left to do… whatever he did (which she knew involved bars and women).

Rogue's eyes widened in realization. Did they just… go bar-hopping together?

And then she slammed her back against the couch and pouted. _They_ got to go bar hopping while she was stuck under Institute arrest because she was a damn hot commodity. Ugh. She couldn't _wait_ to turn 18 and do whatever the fuck she wanted.

Or maybe she was more annoyed that they didn't invite her to go out anywhere.

But she struck the thought from her mind. She was perpetually annoyed with Logan's needlessly over-bearing attitude and being with Logan and Remy in the same room purposefully would just be awkward and painful.

But still.

_Whatever_.

Rogue sulked and killed with a greater ferocity than she had previously.

* * *

**Author's Note: **So. Got a job, kinda. I never realized how much you don't get done when you start working, even if there is so much you want to get done. Thank you for the reviews and I'm sorry this is such a late update. I'm still eager to get this out and I am thinking of it while I work in -70C freezers with biohazard materials.

Anywho, this chapter seems filler, but it's actually part one of a chapter I had to cut in half. Happily, the next half is 75% perfected. I hope to have it up soon as well. Anywho, please drop me a line or two, even if it is to yell at me for taking so damn long. I deserve it. ;D


	22. Chocolate Syrup For Your Life Sundae?

**Title: **The Wreckage

**Disclaimer: **I don't even own the rights to my soon to be college degrees and will not for many, many, many years… It's called a starving ex-student, and by the state of my bank account, I'm living the dream.

**Pairing:** Rogue and Remy

**Rating: **Teen/Mature

**Warnings:** Contains dark and adult themes

**Summary: **It's what happens when two sides collide. The explosion between what you want and what you need, what's right and what's wrong. It's the wreckage. And it could be so easy. ROMY.

* * *

**The Wreckage**

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

**Chocolate Syrup For Your Life-Sundae?**

* * *

Theoretically, she shouldn't have been so exhausted from a whole day of doing nothing. Her day had been spent mindlessly attending to the trivialities of school, stuffing her face, and spending far too many hours enjoying the misfortune and murder of others. Her hands had cramped in an odd position and she was forced to take leave of the controller. That didn't mean she was done with the television. Oh no, she had _plans_ for that television.

And every plan depicted- no, _necessitated_ her in a single, gloriful position: lying on her stomach, face on a pillow, hand dangling off the side- close enough to bring her second 2-liter soda and straw to her face. She took a huge slurp as she descended into Jackass bliss. Ignoring the nagging realization all their man parts couldn't possibly function anymore, she smiled happily, almost to the point of grabbing a pint of ice cream and digging heart and soul into the rugged soul/eye-candy prancing around naked onscreen. Sweet, sweet idiocity.

Rogue knew it was late. She felt it in her body but not in her head. But until she heard the raucous noise that was the men folk coming back home, she didn't realize how late it really _was._

"Well, apparently you don't understand the finer points of what I do, _mon ami_," she heard Remy coolly remark. In her head, she imagined his eyes flashing dangerously, similar to the times he had become extremely annoyed with her stubbornness. It was apparent he had become annoyed with Logan during their outing together. She inwardly smirked; served them both right.

"Yeah, well maybe you don't understand what _we_ do, _bub_," she heard Logan counter. There was no doubt in her mind Logan was sneering up at Remy, with a finger jabbing into his chest. She rolled her eyes. Why did they even bother doing the male bonding thing if male bravado just got in the way? It was annoying and quite honestly, they should take some lessons from the friendly male camaraderie of Jackass, black mamba style.

"Would you two stop your damn bickerin'? I'm tryna watch how _real_ men settle things," she hollered loudly from her downward position on the couch. It was effective: she heard them clam-up immediately and Logan slam the cupboard loudly as he stalked away. She smirked; it seemed as though the night had gone so badly he needed his typical consolatory beer and cigar. Too bad he drank his Raisin Bran Emergency Beer during the flight home. She grinned victoriously as she thought of him without his beer. So there _was_ an upside to this night.

And yet, mere moments after she thought it, there it was- the downside as she screeched when two firm hands slapped her quickly on the ass. Rogue tumbled to the floor in surprise.

"Forgive me, _chérie_, for I could not resist," she heard his slinking voice as she scrambled to pick herself up on the carpeted floor. "It was just callin' out to me." Remy lounged freely at the opposite end of the couch and began flipping through the channels with the sole remote.

"Lord, if I _ever_ find out you actually _used_ that on a girl, I'll make sure you don't sit right for the rest of your pathetic existence," she grumbled, sitting herself a respectable distance away from any more of his surprise attacks. In the time since their… heart-to-heart, he had gotten pretty liberal with the use of his hands around her. It was annoying and unnerving. It was like everything and nothing had changed between them.

"Hmm, so I was right with the S&M, _hein_?"

If she wasn't so sure he could out-maneuver her and duck from her fist and if she had a bit more energy to even attempt it, she would have knocked his smarmy smirk off his face. "Oh, can it," she grumbled. "And put it back on Jackass before I kill you."

"So violent," he admonished. "I told you all those video game ain't good for you, _chérie_."

"Oh yes, because video games made me who I am today. Mystique was just the convenient cherry on top," she replied dryly. Feebly, she attempted to kick the remote out of his hand; he merely switched hands and continued flipping.

"Might I offer some _chocolate syrup _for your life-sundae?"

"Piss off," she mumbled into her pillow, not needing to see his face to hear his eyebrows waggle suggestively.

And for the next ten minutes, she watched him slowly watch sporadic clips of infomercials and re-runs.

It was after fifteen minutes that she realized he was flipping to a slowed beat of "Under Pressure."

"Jesus!" she finally exploded and promptly kicked him. "There's only one good thing on and I'm missin' it cuz of you! Would you just put it back already?"

He chuckled and tossed her the remote.

"That took you longer than I thought it would. Bravo, _chérie_, you surprised me."

"Ass."

"Oh, is that an offer?"

"Shut up. It's on."

With as many shrieks, winces, and groans of shared pain exchanged, Rogue was genuinely surprised that he actually stayed until the end of the glorious movie and into the endless infomercials of early morning. While they certainly hadn't been actively searching each other out since "the incident," they hadn't really been in the same room alone together since that night either. She really hoped she was just imagining the quiet awkwardness; she didn't quite remember how they acted around each other _before_.

Heaving a grunt, she threw the remote in his general direction and settled back sleepily on the couch. She was feeling the end of the night finally and knew this was the perfect way to make an easy escape, but she didn't necessarily want to go back up to the deserted wing of the dormitories… And of course, Remy seemed to pick up on that.

He attempted to grab the edge of her blanket and wrap it over him. "So what was it tonight, _chérie? _Early riser or couldn't sleep?"

"So what was it tonight, Cajun?" she mimicked as she yanked her blanket back and burritoed herself in. "Blonde or brunette?"

She could hear the salacious grin eat his face as he turned and grabbed her leg through her fuzzy blanket. "With you around, _chérie_, why do I gotta choose?"

Rogue rolled her eyes and yanked her leg away from his grip. "Oh, I don't know, choosin' between life and death ain't enough for you?" she snorted.

"A greetin' from you at either gate would be a thrill and an honor, _chérie_."

"God, you're ridiculous," she muttered.

Rogue's ears perked up to the return of growling and furious pantry door opening and closing coming from the kitchen. After enough rummaging, the side-door slammed with enough force to make her wince. She could easily see Remy mumbling under his breath. It was safe to say her curiosity was piqued.

"And speakin' of ridiculous, I take it your male bondin' time didn't go so well?"

Remy glowered; it was apparent any good mood slapping her ass had induced in him was gone at the reappearance of Logan and the reminder of the night they seemed to share.

"Is that what we were doin?" Remy snorted. Clearly, he was unimpressed and Rogue wondered if Logan had actually tricked him into spending an empty night with him.

"Well, that's what it seems like," she scoffed. "Jesus, are you that desperate for a wing-man?"

"Hardly," he looked at her drily. "He wouldn't hear of me goin' alone."

Rogue wrinkled her nose a bit. That was odd- Logan had a penchant for lone bar trips; why wouldn't he allow Remy the same luxury? "He does realize you're all grown up, right?"

"Apparently not. He thought I had somethin' to learn, bein' taken in under his wing or somethin'. As if I'd ever aspire to be the _Robin_ to his Batman."

Rogue fought the urge to shudder. She had always imagined Logan to be a good instructor- in _some_ areas. "And did you learn somethin'?" she asked sweetly.

"I'll say," he grumbled. "I learned I don't care to work usin' his tactics."

While it wasn't weird to think of Logan drinking in bars, it was weird to think of Logan picking up _women_ in bars with tried and true _tactics_. It wasn't like martial arts, militia, and making a move were in the same category and she couldn't resist making a face and a retching noise at the thought. "Ugh, I don't even want to know what tactics you're talkin' about. An eighty year old pickin' up girls at a bar? Gross."

Remy swiveled his head and made an equally disgusted face. "First of all, it's good to know you ain't into _that_. Second, what the hell are you talkin' about, _fille_?"

"Uh, how about you two goin' out bar-hoppin', bondin' like bros?"

"_Dieu_," she swore his face blanched slightly. "Where'd you get that crazy idea?"

Rogue rolled her eyes. "Well let's see, you usually announce the fact you hit puberty half a century ago to anyone in a ten mile radius around this time of night and Logan likes to test the strength of his regenerating liver the minute all the kiddies are gone. Gee, I wonder why I thought that."

"Well, chérie, I can assure you, that wasn't what we were doin'," Remy chuckled. "Although, it is nice to know you have such wild delusions of us bein' friends. You should get that overactive imagination checked out."

"Well, if you two didn't just nip off all super secretive maybe I wouldn't have to jump to conclusions," she accused.

"Next time, I'll leave a note. Would that make you happy?"

"Like I care where the hell you are," she scoffed. "I just wanna know why I'm gonna be avoidin' Logan for the next 4 days."

It was Remy's turn to roll his eyes. "If you must know, it seems as though my thievin' methods are too refined and _quiet _for the likes of _some mutants_," he finished loudly, aiming towards the empty space Logan had formerly occupied.

Rogue stared at him, clearly bewildered. This conversation went from cradle-robbing to a tale of outlaw bandits too quickly and she had a bit of whiplash. "Okay, now what the hell are _you_ talkin' bout?"

Remy sighed and rubbed his face tiredly. "I got another call."

There was no guesswork on what calls he was getting. Rogue blinked. The world had braked from its 60 mph u-turn and that was definitely unexpected. "Oh."

"Yeah."

Was it just her, or did the room seem a bit smaller and a bit more vulnerable to her? Rogue smoothed down the hairs on the back of her neck unconsciously. "What do they want this time?"

"I wish I knew," Remy shook his head. "Could be just more information for all I know. They were pretty closed mouthed when they gave me the job description."

"Closed mouth as in 'the less you know, the better'?" Rogue was vaguely familiar with the simple code of conduct Thieves participated in with potential employers.

"Mebbe. Could be they don't know themselves."

Rogue furrowed her eyebrows. That seemed ridiculous to her. "How do they know to hire you if they don't know what they're lookin' for?"

"They know somethin' important's bein' housed in the facility- whatever intel told them somethin' important's there and it's locked nice and tight."

"Well that isn't vague at all," she scoffed. "Can you even do the job with that much information?

Remy shrugged, clearly not as bothered as she was with the lack of information. "Lots of jobs go like this, believe it or not. They get some intel that somethin's there and they want it. They hire me to get it, whether it's a gig or two of files or the diamonds off a woman's finger."

"But if you don't know what you're lookin' for…" Rogue was having a hard time figuring out how Remy would do this and how Logan would even manage to help- or in this case, how Logan could manage to piss off Remy enough to almost revoke his help on a mission.

"I can narrow it down a bit."

"How?"

"Well, everythin' so far's been mutant related: theories, profiles, fundin', you name it. The facility itself is a biotech company focusin' on early disease detection and prevention. Their list of accomplishments with genetic disease testin' is a good indication as to what they're doin'."

"But we aren't sufferin' from a damn disease," she protested.

Remy shrugged again and gave her a pointed look. "I know that, but not everyone sees it like that."

"Well, obviously," she glowered lowly and then sighed. "But I guess that's not the point, is it?" Remy shook his head noncommittally. "So you've already done some research into this?"

Remy gave her an incredulous look. "'Course I did- just what kind of professional Thief do you think I am?"

"How the hell am I supposed to know? It's not like I've seen you in action or anythin'," she shrugged flippantly. The corners of his lips turned slightly upwards and she quickly cut him off before his slimy tongue could further taint any innocent comment she had. "So what the heck are you supposed to do if you don't know what you're actually lookin' for?"

Rogue wondered if he was actually disappointed he didn't get to use his smarmy comments on her by the way he pouted. "May not know what to look for, but I do know where to find it."

"Oh, yeah?"

"_Oui_. My employer was kind enough to supply a potential area the whatever-it-is may be stored. I got the schematics and now it's just a matter of gettin' in and out with the right stuff before security comes back around."

Theoretically, his mission sounded easy, but something about the way he cracked his knuckles tipped her off to his lack of cocky ease. "So, what then? You go in, get the information, and get the hell outta Dodge?"

"In a nutshell, _oui_."

"That shouldn't be too hard for you, Professional Thief Extrordinare, right?" she simpered.

"Ordinarily, _non_."

"Ordinarily?"

Remy shrugged again. "The place is locked up air-tight."

"So you can't do it."

Remy gave her a dry look. "Oh, never fear, _chérie_. I can do it- I just need another person to help."

"So that's why you need Logan then, am I right?"

Remy narrowed his eyes in annoyance. "I don't need _him_," he huffed in quick defense. "He invited himself and just so happens to be the only one available to do this thing _tomorrow_."

Rogue crinkled her nose. "Tomorrow? That soon?"

"_Oui._"

It was clear that Remy was not a happy camper with the arrangements. "Does it have to be tomorrow? Can't you wait for Kitty to come back and help you out?"

"Ideal as that sounds, tomorrow's the best and only opportunity I'm gonna get. I can't wait."

"And why's that?"

"It's Thanksgivin'."

"I know that, moron," she huffed. "But why does it have to be tomorrow?"

"It's a holiday. It's gonna be empty- for the most part."

Finally, she nodded in approval. "So you're gonna take advantage of underpaid and underwhelmed security guards?"

"Pretty much."

"And Logan can't help you do this?"

"Pretty much."

"And why exactly is that?"

"Because he believes that if you can't sneak in, you should barge in."

"But I thought you could sneak in- just with two people."

"Yes, but for some reason, he doesn't seem to want to believe me."

"Gee, I wonder why," she muttered. Typical Logan, trying to take control over things he had no authority over.

Lapsing back into silence, she mulled over how sucky his situation was going to be tomorrow night and how much she didn't envy his plight. Listening to their earlier bickering made complete sense and she almost felt relieved it wasn't because of a failed bonding night- and shortly after that feeling passed, she felt weirded out. What did it matter to her if Logan and Remy weren't buddy-buddy with each other? She didn't care that Remy and Scott were mortal enemies at best- why did she worry if the most over-bearing authority in her life didn't care for the guy who kidnapped, drank her down the drain, and made out with her?

Ugh, she was thinking way too hard about this. It was time for sleep.

Stifling a yawn, she kicked his leg with the little amount of strength she had left and began to get up. "Well, try to have fun tomorrow- wait."

Rogue sat her ass back down on the couch and after a long awkward moment, a brief flash of clarity hit her. "Why don't I do it?"

He pivoted his head and peered at her curiously. "Really?"

"Yeah," she nodded as happy realization dawned on her. "I mean, why not? I'm not Logan and hell, it's not like I got plans for tomorrow. I'm kinda trained for this sort of thing and even if I'm not, it's not like I can't figure it out in two seconds. Why not me?"

Some sort of bubble of excitement crept up from her toes to her belly and she looked at him with nervous anticipation. It was _the_ perfect answer to a boring holiday- it would get her out of the Institute with a chaperone, get away from Logan's disapproving gaze, get out of an awkward, dress-up dinner with the adults, help mutant kind, etc, etc.

He gave her a suspiciously inquisitive glance. After a moment, he nodded slowly. "Yeah. Why not you?"

She grinned. He got on board a lot quicker than she thought he would. Did that mean she could actually benefit him more than Logan could? "Exactly. Why not me?"

"You're not Logan, you got nothin' to do…" Remy's face began to slowly mimic her own. But quickly, his eyes narrowed. "You'd really be okay to go on a B&E mission _avec moi_? Thievin'? Robbin' someone blind?"

Rogue rolled her eyes. He could be ridiculously dramatic, especially when it came to stating her moral boundaries. Did she really come off as being that straight-edged? With a mutation like hers? "It's hardly robbin' someone blind."

"But it's robbin' some researcher's life work," he pointed out quickly (and probably a little too jovially).

"Yeah, well, survival of the fittest," she muttered. "I'll consider feelin' bad when my name gets off the grocery list of mutant targets- or when I don't need a damn chaperone anymore."

"Interestin'," he peered at her inquisitively.

"What?" she narrowed her eyes suspiciously, scooting away from him slightly.

"That wasn't exactly an answer I expected from an X-Men."

"Oh, thanks for that glowin' compliment. I'm only here tryin' to save your sanity," she huffed.

"No insult intended. I just didn't realize you were so…" he waved his hand flippantly, "so grey."

"If that's just another way of tellin' me I need more sleep, I swear-"

"Oh hush," he waved her off with his hand again. "What I _meant _was morally grey. You do what you gotta do, and that's somethin' I can definitely get on board with. I like it."

Rogue felt her face flush slightly and was thankful the room was so dark. Was that an actual compliment? And was she actually flattered? "Yeah, well," she crossed her arms and mumbled. "You can only take so many attempts on your life before you start takin' down names."

"So you're really willin'?"

"Willin' and able."

"You ain't gonna get there and chicken out?"

"You really don't have high expectations, do you?"

"It's easier said than done," he shrugged.

"I'll be fine," she deadpanned.

"Alright, then that you gonna take my advice as Master Thief and do exactly what I say, when I say it, too?"

There was a trick lead in and question if she ever saw it. "If it relates to the job, then sure. I'm all yours, sugah," Rogue smiled sweetly.

Remy threw his head back and made a pitiful groan. "_Dieu_," he chuckled sadly. "I'm sad you caught that."

"I can tell," she fake frowned for his disappointment. "I guess you'll just have to find some other way to con me into your deadly sex slave."

"If there's a will," he suggested.

"There's no way, Cajun," Rogue deadpanned.

"We'll see."

"Ugh," Rogue made a face when she realized what she just signed herself up for. "I can't believe I just agreed to subject myself to hours of your deviant presence. Lord, what's wrong with me?" She would be in her too tight uniform with no other person around (namely Logan) and it was just asking to be harassed. And generally, as these missions tended to play out in any action film, she had a sneaking suspicion this entire mission would eventually lead to tight, uncomfortable positions with him. Yep, that's what she just signed herself up for. But…

Would it be that bad?

She almost visibly smacked herself in front of him. Sweet Jesus, what was _with_ her psyches tonight?

"Oh, don't fight it," he nudged her foot with a smirk. "You're lookin' forward to this- you get to be a badass for a night with the _crème de la crème_."

"Of course, that's exactly what I'm lookin' forward to. By the way, have you had a slice of humble pie lately? I heard it's a real treat."

"Wanna hear what's a real treat?"

She inched closer towards the arm rest. "No, and I don't think I want to."

"Oh, come on, _chérie_," he grinned excitingly, scooting closer to her. She hated when he called her unconscious tells like that. "Just think 'bout it- you and me together, we could steal the keys to heaven off Saint Gabriel's belt."

"That again, huh?" she snorted. "I'd like to think I could get into heaven with some good, old-fashioned Southern charm, thank you very much."

"_Chérie_, with a body like yours," he began salaciously, starting an interesting conversation in way too close proximity for her comfort.

_Snickt_.

"Like _how_, Cajun?"

She _really_ hadn't heard Logan come in this time. And she had to admit, she jumped a little from the tell-tale tone of his anger.

"Oh good, just the person I was lookin' for," Remy quipped sarcastically. He ignored the quick brandishing of adamantium claws and seemed unperturbed by the horrible bad timing Logan's entrances seemed to have tonight.

"That's good, cuz it sounds like you and I need to have a _little talk_," Logan narrowed his eyes in warning. The growling would come next, she was sure of it.

"I'd think we do, too," Remy cocked his head with his small smirk. "Turns out I won't need your assistance tomorrow after all. Thanks for the offer, though."

Logan growled. Rogue almost wished she bet someone; she could have made a decent amount. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Very few residents at the Institute could blow off a clearly steaming Wolverine with only a fraction of the ease Remy had. It was impressive. With a mere flick of the wrist, Remy casually shrugged. "Found you a replacement. Now you don't have to worry about workin' with the likes of me, _n'est pas_?"

That really only put fuel to the fire. Rogue could only imagined that stabbed at his pride a little- who _wouldn't_ take the famed Weapon X on an important recon mission?

"Oh yeah, Gumbo? Who's takin' my place?" It was almost threatening the way he asked and Rogue felt a tiny smidge of fear for her well being- only a tiny smidge, mind you. She was trained by Logan himself, after all.

"_Monsieur_, is this jealously I hear?"

"What low-life friend of yers is takin' my place, Gambit?"

Any other person would quiver in fear and give the man the answers he demanded. But Remy? Remy just turned his head lazily towards her and grinned. "Aw look, a new pet name for you. Aren't you special, _chérie_?"

"Wonderful. I do hope it doesn't stick," she glared pointedly at Logan.

"Her?" Logan jabbed his thumb in her direction and glowered at Remy. "She's my replacement?"

"Mmhm," Remy nodded unapologetically.

"Yer pickin' the kid over me?"

Remy pretended to look her over again and she knew what kind of comments he was making in her head about her age. Wisely, he decided not to voice them aloud. "_Oui_."

"Care to explain your reasonin', Gam_bit_?"

"Well, she's available, she's willin'," he grinned a bit too eagerly at her as he ticked off his points on his gloved fingers. "Oh, and she smells helluva lot better than you too."

"You are crazy off your ass if you think _she's_ goin', Gumbo," he threatened.

"Hey!" Rogue finally cut in indignantly. "What's wrong with _me_ goin'?" She could only take being indirectly looked down upon for so long.

"Yer just a kid. This doesn't concern you."

Rogue's jaw went slack as she near gaped at Logan furiously. He didn't even bother to look at her as he continued glowering at Remy. How _dare_ he dismiss her like she didn't matter!

"The hell it doesn't!" Rogue flew to her feet and glared heatedly at him, hands flying to her hips. "Give me one _good_ reason why I'm not _good enough_ to do this?"

Logan finally looked at her and rolled his eyes like she was a five year old throwing a temper tantrum over the last cookie. "I never said that-"

"Then what is it?" Rogue interrupted hotly. "Why are you so against me doin' this?"

"You've never trained for a mission like this and with the way yer powers have been actin'-"

"Well, how am I supposed to ever learn how to control my powers _if I never use them_?" she sneered. She didn't ever want to think of that fight again, but damn, that felt good.

"Don't even start with that," Logan pointed at her and growled. "You know damn well that wasn't what I meant."

"That's sure as hell what it sounded like," she accused.

"Rogue," he rubbed the bridge of his nose in attempts to quell his explosive, quivering frustration. "You're not goin' and that's it."

"It's funny you're sayin' that, considerin' you aren't even in charge of this mission," she reminded him and jerked her finger towards Remy, who immediately held up his hands in surprise innocence. "_He_ is and _he_ made it pretty clear that _he_ wants _me_ on this mission and _not you_."

"Yeah, well, _you_ goin' ain't up to him," Logan repudiated with an almost finalized, commanding tone.

But her blood heated when she thought about it. She wouldn't have any of his superior undertones, _especially _since _he _had worked her to the damn bone for months on end. Why _shouldn't_ she get to do this mission, especially on Remy's insistence? It was _obvious_ she was well-suited _and_ wanted.

"Well, you aren't my guardian, so I guess it ain't up to you, either," she challenged haughtily.

Whatever he had expected, it hadn't been that. She almost felt guilty throwing that card on the table, but quickly resigned the thought because she knew he would instantly smell her guilt and her backing down- because that's what he expected. He thought she was weak and she was prepared to tell him to fuck off. Yes, she was that peeved. How dare he so _adamantly_ interfere with her life_ and _the lives of others?

It felt like they stared each other down threateningly, waiting for the other to make the final, deciding move.

And she hadn't expected Logan's mouth to curl up into an almost cruel smile. "Fine. When Chuck says no, I don't even want to hear you whining to him."

He wasn't winning that easily. "And when he says yes, I expect the same," she replied just as evenly, glaring intently.

Logan regarded her for a few heated moments longer before snorting and stalking away.

Rogue collapsed back onto the couch with a slow smug, yet satisfied smile crept onto her face. By the bewildered look on Remy's face, she knew he wasn't sure how to take this confrontation. He had every right to be apprehensive; it was technically his job and reputation on the line.

"So, uh…" Remy scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "That went well."

She smiled as she reached over to take the Xbox controller for the bajillionth time that night. It was a killing inanimate items sort of time, normal sleeping hours be damned.

"Yup," she popped happily.

"Why do I feel like you're not takin' this as seriously as I am?"

"Let me tell you how holidays work around here," she smiled dully as she let the video game intro play out. "The Prof and Hank sit around drinkin' wine, playin' chess, and talkin' mutant politics. I sit and watch. They feel bad that I'm hangin' out alone and try to pass me off to Scott."

"But Scoot's not here."

"And I'm sure their guilty consciences will appreciate you takin' a mopin' teenager off their hands for the holiday."

"So you think they'll let you go?"

"Please." Rogue gave him a plain stare. "I'm the resident pity case. I know they will."

* * *

**Author's Note**: This was a really fun chapter to write. I hope you enjoyed too. Ready for some action? Thanks for the review/alerts/favorites! Feel free to leave more ESPECIALLY because it is the one year anniversary of the story. Yay! Commitment! ;D


	23. And The Nipples? And The Nipples

**Title: **The Wreckage

**Disclaimer: **I don't even own the rights to my soon to be college degrees and will not for many, many, many years… It's called a starving ex-student, and by the state of my bank account, I'm living the dream.

**Pairing:** Rogue and Remy

**Rating: **Teen/Mature

**Warnings:** Contains dark and adult themes

**Summary: **It's what happens when two sides collide. The explosion between what you want and what you need, what's right and what's wrong. It's the wreckage. And it could be so easy. ROMY.

* * *

**The Wreckage**

**Chapter Twenty-Three**

**And The Nipples? And The Nipples.**

* * *

Rogue walked out of the Professor's office with the biggest, smuggest smirk she could muster as she faced Logan leaning against the wall in front of the door. There was no guessing whether or not he had heard the Professor's ultimate verdict; Logan's face clearly fumed with objections.

"Remember," she pointed smugly at his clearly unhappy face. "I don't want to hear any whinin'."

He held in all objections until she had turned the corner towards the kitchen. It wasn't quite out of earshot and as she entered the kitchen she could hear Logan's immediate and poorly disguised protests. She cackled in amusement as she met Remy's puzzled face.

"So, what's the verdict?" Remy finally asked with a mouth full of chips.

"First of all," she pointed to his mouth. "Congratulations. That's officially _the_ classiest thing I've seen in my two hours of being awake."

"What can I say? It's part of the charm." He didn't even bother swallowing as he smiled.

"Spare me," she winced.

Remy finally wiped his mouth and swallowed, looking at her expectantly. "Well?"

Rogue rolled her eyes; she wasn't scowling or moping or glaring at the direction Logan was in, so what did he _think_ the verdict was? "Well, what do you think?"

"Well, I am an optimist by nature," he tipped his coffee mug towards her.

"That's… nice to know," she answered slowly. What the hell was he getting at?

"I'd like to think it's time to commission that Rogue blow-up doll we discussed earlier."

Opening the fridge, she snorted in amusement. "_That_ again?"

"Pretty please?"

"Ugh, whatever," she sighed and waved tiredly as she stuck her head into the fridge's deep crevices in search of her 2-liter. "Just don't forget the shock system."

"And the nipples?"

"And the nipples," she relented mock-despairingly. He just sounded so pitifully hopeful she couldn't bear to tell him otherwise.

"Oh… oh heavens," a voice commented uncomfortably from the entrance Rogue had walked in not two seconds ago. Rogue winced from inside the fridge. Remy _had_ to be timing his comments to the entrance of adults. This was getting too uncanny to be coincidence.

"Hey Dr. McCoy," Rogue called from the inside of the fridge. She wouldn't let Remy get under her skin _that_ easily if that's the game him was playing. Emerging victorious with her almost finished 2-liter, she smiled innocently at Hank. "What's up?"

Whatever awkward moment Hank walked in on, he was quickly composed, clearly writing off the conversation to either a typical teenage conversation- or just to Remy's less than savory influence. "I, ah, seek provisions," he smiled happily, as he grabbed another large mug.

"Coffee?" Rogue perched herself on the counter and took a chug of her bottle. The moment Hank's back was turned away she quickly stuck her tongue out at Remy's shit-eating grin.

"Life's necessity and my third pot today."

"Wouldn't that be considered an addiction at that point?" Rogue wrinkled up her nose.

"Ah, but to classify it is an addiction is to assume it is a drug," Hank mused and grinned. "I consider it a vitamin."

"Then you must be as healthy as a horse," Rogue quipped.

"Indeed," he lifted his mug in salute. "And you must have also partaken, my dear, for you seem quite jovial this morning."

"Are you kiddin' me? There ain't anywhere near enough coffee in Columbia to make her this happy at _any_ hour," Remy muttered.

"Oh hush," Rogue threw her empty soda liter at him. "Nobody asked you."

"She's just this happy cuz she'll be spendin' the next 24 hours _avec moi_," he grinned, easily catching the bottle hurtling at his face.

Hank perked up at the mention of tonight. "Will we not be seeing you for the feast tonight then, Rogue?"

"Oh, no," Rogue itched her head nervously. She felt a little guilty that she had jumped so quickly at the chance to avoid having dinner with the adults, especially considering they were all very nice and accommodating to her needs. But when it came down to it, she was tired of being watched under such close proximity. "I'm actually goin' on the mission with him," she yanked her thumb towards him.

"Oh." Hank looked surprised. "But I thought Logan was going on that mission."

Everyone heard the passing low growl and subsequent door slamming and made a collective wince.

"Oh dear," Hank shook his head.

"I thought we agreed no _whinin'_," she called out against the door, knowing there was a good chance he heard that crystal clearly. Good.

"Well," Hank sighed. "It should be an interesting dinner tonight. Are you sure you don't wish to attend?"

"Mmm," Rogue pretended to ponder his offer and hopped off the counter. "Sorry, but I have an important engagement I must attend to. Maybe next year."

"And by engagement, she means _date_," Remy cheekily corrected, wiping the last bit of lunch off his face.

"And by _date_, he means a mission in which he's gonna act like the utmost professional, thievin' gentleman." Rogue reached out to grab her wayward 2-liter bottle and slapped him on the side of the head with it.

"Whatever you say," he grinned, sliding off his barstool. "Are you ready, _ma chérie_?"

"Ugh," she scoffed and grimaced, tapping her toe impatiently. "I'm so ready to be done with you already."

"But the fun hasn't even started," he exclaimed, draping his arm over her.

"Goody," she rolled her eyes while flicking his arm off.

"Well, don't have too much fun. I am quite sure Logan's head would explode and I don't care to help him put himself back together," Hank called out behind them.

"Noted," Rogue called back out.

Hank poured another large cup of coffee and chuckled knowingly to himself.

* * *

As Rogue followed Remy the deserted hallway, she realized she only had a vague sense of where she was going. On a day to day basis, there was no reason to venture down this hall except for waking her lazy brother up (or blackmailing certain team leaders into letting her borrow a certain team leader's precious car). There was only two times she had ventured this far into the deep recesses of the boy's wing and she vaguely remembered both times. Something about being under mind control, whether it be your own or someone else's, made things very blurry.

As Remy stopped at the entrance of his door, Rogue felt her hand twitch with Remy's miniscule hand movements jiggling the door knob. And as he opened the door, Rogue immediately felt awkward. What was the etiquette for entering a non-female, non-brother's room? And why did this part of the hall smell so much better than the first part?

Rogue awkwardly walked in behind him. Maybe it was the fact she was her in her right mind walking in or maybe it was the brighter lighting, but everything looked more alien than familiar for her having been in there once before.

"So, uh," she looked uncomfortably around. "Nice room."

"You think?" he mused as he booted up his laptop.

"Sure. It's uh… minimalistic." In other words, it was barren. It hardly contained any tell-tale signs that anyone lived there and it lacked any personalization whatsoever. Was she really sure he even lived here? And it was neat. Too neat. Huh. She never pictured him as a clean guy.

"What can I say?" he grinned. "I'm a man of simple tastes."

She continued to look around him room freely in the light. What? She was curious. Remy's room was a mythical place she had only been bored to tears hearing about by Jubilee and Tabitha.

"Did you move the furniture around?"

"Mmhm," he typed in some crazy-long password.

"Wasn't feng-shui enough for you?" she commented.

"Somethin' like that," he shrugged.

She continued to look around hesitantly with arms crossed, awkwardly standing in the middle of the room.

"_Chérie_," he gave her a plain look. "Just sit on the bed."

Rogue wrinkled her nose.

"I don't have cooties."

"I don't believe you."

"I'm not allowed to bring girls back with me, if that helps."

"It doesn't. I've always imagined you as a lone-wolf type, remember?"

Spinning around on his chair to face her, he grinned lecherously. "So you freely admit you've imagined this before?"

"Oh shush," she grumbled, sitting precariously on the edge of his bed. It smelt a lot like him in the room, a bit more diluted, but still fragrant with the stench of Cajun. While there was a very valid reason as to why she was in the room, she still couldn't help feel horribly out of place- like she could and would get caught and "grounded" at any moment.

A few minutes passed and it was painfully silent. "So…" Rogue began awkwardly, still looking uncomfortably around the room while not trying to think about the fact she was in Remy's room. Alone. No one would know about this since everyone was gone so she didn't have to worry about the gossip train starting up, but her psyches were still present and it was getting excited up in there. "How's this gonna go down?"

"Well, you need to know the details, so I gotta brief you. Now we can do this the _hard_ way," he wagged his eyebrows, "or the easy way."

Rogue made a face at his innuendo. "For the sake of not gratifying your double entendres, what's the easy way?"

His grin grew exponentially.

She held up her hands. There was no winning against him. "Ugh, forget it. What are my options?"

"Traditionally, a good thief normally spends hours dedicated to researchin' and casin' the place before hittin' it up."

"Which it sounds like you've already done," she commented.

"Exactly. The only problem is, you haven't and I prefer my associates to have a high level of background preparation before I allow them to join me."

"So, brief me then, oh Master Thief," she crooned sweetly, clearly understanding that he thought highly of himself on the thieving ladder.

"Oh, I'll brief you alright," he grinned. "But I'm not sure we're gonna have enough time to cover everythin'."

"Oh." It was nice he skirted around the issue delicately but not like she was a fragile flower. "So, I'll be usin' my powers then?" she finally asked.

"It would make things go a lot smoother," he admitted.

"For me, yeah. But what about you? You forget that part of what I do is drain you dry, knock you out, and so on," she crossed her arms, unimpressed with the idea of having to carry on the mission by herself.

"The last time went alright, _hein_?" he grinned.

Rogue gave him a pointed stare. The last time culminated in one hell of a time, sure, but none of it ended ideal. "Did it? Did it really?"

He sighed. "Okay, not _that_ part. But the other part, the one that got you out of whatever the hell you did- which by the way, I haven't forgotten you still owe me an explanation for that night."

Rogue waved him off, completely forgetting that she did taunt him with information after the "Veggie Explosion Spectacular" and never had a chance to make good on her promise. That day riddled with panic and clear desperation seemed like it happened so long ago. "Mind back in the game, Cajun."

"Anyways," he continued through her pointed stares. "I figured it would be easier for both of us if you just absorbed me now. Gives me a chance to recover and it gives you a chance to ask questions and fill in the gaps."

Rogue slightly cringed at the thought. There were too many what-ifs involved with absorbing anyone before an important mission. This was precisely the problem she found before most missions though- be useful and absorb a teammate (which for most of her friends, was always to the point that they themselves were rendered useless) or just focus on some menial task she could do to aid the team in a relatively small way? Like piloting. Or first aid.

"I don't know…" she hesitated. "My powers aren't really clear-cut. You might be good or I might knock you out for the entire night. Do you really want to risk it?"

"It's a gamble I'm willin' to take," he shrugged. "Not to downplay your powers, but I think I can take it."

She gave him a long look.

"All I'm sayin' is things went pretty well last time. I got faith we'll be… good together again," he grinned.

Rogue reached behind her and grabbed his immaculate pillow and slapped it across his head. "What did I say about bein' a professional gentleman?"

"To… do it?"

Rogue reached up and rubbed her temples. Why did this seem like a better idea last night? "Savin' mutantkind, gettin' out of the house, pissin' off Logan," she muttered. Oh, that's right, she was sleep deprived. And probably still was.

"And don't forget spendin' quality time with me," he charmingly added to her list of reasons why she shouldn't kill him.

"How could I?" she muttered, rubbing the bridge of her nose while still trying to wrap her head around the issue at hand. "Okay, fine, whatever. We don't really have many options do we?"

"Glad to see you're onboard with this." He extended a hand. "Now do your worst."

She smacked him again with the pillow. "Don't tempt me."

Sliding off a glove, she wiped her hand of its clamminess. Like there was never enough preparation for feeling the shock when you put a foil gum wrapper in an power outlet or even when you were about to use a waxing strip for the bajillionth time, Rogue was never ready to use her powers. She reached out, about to touch his hand, when she retracted.

"Not to pry, but there isn't anythin' else I should know about, right?" It was a quick, last minute thought that instantaneously threw her back into the horrid memories of his past. If given the memories, she knew she could deal with it, but it was always nice to have a disclaimer beforehand.

"Eh," he shrugged with a lopsided grin. "We'll cross that bridge if we get to it, _hein?_"

"Great," she grumbled. Reaching out again, she was just about to zap him when she retracted again. "Wait," she twiddled her fingers nervously. "You should… you should probably be on the bed when I do this."

Remy's eyebrows rose with amusement. "Y'know, I don't normally start dates this way," he chuckled in astonishment, "but for you, _chérie_…" he grinned and plopped on his bed. "Any way you like it and I'll be happy to oblige."

"Ugh!" With a disgusted face, Rogue smacked him with the pillow again. "You damn perv. I was just suggestin' the bed since I sure as hell ain't gonna move your fatass if you pass out on the floor."

"So you say," Remy shook his head in disbelief.

"Oh, be quiet," she huffed. "And if you keep callin' this mission a date and I'll make sure it's Logan you're whisperin' sweet nothin's to at the end of the night and _not me_," she pointed at him.

"Fine," he sighed in mock unhappiness. Fluffing up the pillows, Remy leaned back expectantly. "I'm on the bed, ready to do your biddin'. You ready?"

"Just focus on whatever it is I need to know and I'll do the same," she sighed and rolled her neck in preparation. She had only spent an hour in his presence and he had already tired her out. But she couldn't let him know- it just sounded wrong. She tried not to think of the night ahead as she calmed herself down. After a minute of quick meditation, she reached out hesitantly.

"Y'know, just as a side note," he lazily interrupted her and she jolted back. "Feel free to make this as fun as you'd like."

Wait, what? Fun? With her powers? "What's that supposed to mean?" she eyed him suspiciously.

"You obviously don't like usin' your powers and I can't blame you. But it just doesn't look like any fun the way you do it."

"How else am I supposed to do it, Cajun?" she deadpanned. There were a few ways he could go with this and she was certain she wouldn't like any of them.

"I'm sure you have an imagination," he winked and nudged her with his foot. His eyes glinted again and she was almost compelled to ask him why his eyes did that. "Feel free to use it on me, if you'd like."

Rogue thought she was over-thinking things, but he pretty much said it all and a hot flush swept over her body. Not only was she highly exposed with the insecurity that came with using her powers, but now her imagination was slowly churning and imagining… things.

And a scorching moment flashed through her mind, one where she crawled oh-so-slowly over to him, settled sensually on his lap, and took his mouth for a hot spin yet another time. He wasn't horrible to look at or horrible to touch and it wouldn't be so terrible that way... She yanked her thoughts out of that line of fire _quick_.

_No,_ she told herself firmly. This was just another one of his ways to unnerve her, to get under her skin the best way he knew how- with all things sexual.

"So just because you forced your tongue down my throat one time and didn't pass out, you're suggestin' we do it again?" He couldn't possibly be serious with the suggestion.

He shrugged with that shit-eating grin of his. "I mean, it's not like anybody's around to say anythin' this time. It could be our little secret."

Oh _Lord, _Remy had to be joking. He had to be doing this for the sheer satisfaction of making her uncomfortable. It was almost unreal, to think he would try and… seduce her. That left a horribly dry taste in her mouth and a queasy churning in her stomach. Regardless, Rogue cocked her head and bit her lip, looking at him like she was seriously pondering the thought. She wasn't though. "Is this your way of beggin' without tryin' to seem like you're beggin'?" she asked finally. She mock gasped as another thought hit her. "Do you have a case of blue balls, Cajun?"

"Fine," he heaved and threw up his hands. "I'll admit it. It's the bed," he admitted with a sarcastic shake of his head. "This bed- it hasn't gotten any and it's cryin' out for some. Help pop a bed's cherry, _chérie_?"

"Sorry, sugah," she rolled her eyes. "With as much as Jubes and Tabby have claimed to be in here, I don't believe you."

"Babysittin' doesn't register as gettin' some," he pointed out wryly.

"Then I should be no different, _chaperone_," she answered simply, resolving to just write off this entire moment as him being his obnoxious self. "Now can we do this? We're wastin' valuable pass-out time." And not to mention, she really wanted to get off this topic. It was enticing and horrifically embarrassing at the same time and for once, she was really glad the information transfer didn't go the other way.

"Fine," he finally relented. "Just tryin' to make this more fun for you."

"I appreciate the thought," she replied dryly. "Now could you please focus on the mission now?"

"As you wish," Remy settled back on the pillow with his eyes closed and a little smile on his face. She ignored it and tried to concentrate at the task at hand. A few deep and calming breaths later and she reached out again shakily.

But before she could make contact, a single devil eye popped open and he grinned. "You considered it, didn't you?"

"Damnit, Cajun!"

* * *

Rogue hopped off the back of Gambit's bike and took off her helmet to survey the place from a top the hill. There were things she had been prepared for, like shady warehouse-like labs, high security prison-like labs, even underground labs. But this place?

"Y'know, your schematics didn't do this place justice. It's not nearly as sinister as I thought it would be," she reported dryly. The building betrayed nothing that they were harboring mutant concerns within its walls. Hell, the 15 feet iron-wrought gates looked classy and inconspicuous- who would have known they contained pressure sensors _and _an electric shock system in them? It just looked like a typical business with fancy glass architecture and foliage to give its workers fake security that they weren't slaves to a corporation. "It looks like… a normal workin' place. Classier than a normal workin' place."

"That's 'cuz it is. The company itself worked on notable and noble diseases before dippin' its finger in the mutant pie. Not only that, but the company's actually ranked as one of the highest employee-friendly biotech companies in the state."

"And yet they're tryin' to off all of mutant-kind?" she muttered.

"Let's wait to make that assumption, shall we?"

"Fine," she sighed, swinging a small backpack over her shoulder and looping it around the other arm. She tightened the straps to fit closely to her body and made sure the zippers were completely closed. "No need to go in already wantin' to blow the entire place up."

"Thatta girl," he chuckled, adjusting his head piece. "Think everythin's gonna stick?" he tapped his head and looked at her intently.

"We reviewed enough, so it should," she snapped on a pair of better leather gloves that had been carefully wiped clean of any human/mutant DNA. "Unless that's your cockiness again- and I wouldn't be surprised." They had reviewed a fair amount- after she had almost duct taped his perv mouth shut, that is. And surprisingly, he was all business when it really got down to it. It was almost unnerving what a change his mannerisms had taken; he was solemn, professional, supportive… and to be honest, a completely different person.

And then she zipped herself up in an unmarked, spare uniform (one that was clearly not intended for her mutation) and that Gambit high-tailed it.

"It's called _confidence_, _chérie_. We went over this." He tucked a few more things into places she didn't know existed in his coat.

"Tomato, tomatoh," she brushed him off, pulling out a beanie and stuffing her distinguishable hair into it. Stuffing a few bobby pins in her hair to secure the beanie, she turned and faced him. "Indistinguishable?"

"I can still tell you're a girl," he admitted after a moment of free-for-all ogling. "But I ain't complainin'."

"Ugh," she rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "Are you ready yet?"

"I love how you're so eager to do this," he smirked, digging out two discrete earpieces. "It warms the cockles of my heart- among other things."

Rogue snatched her earpiece and stuffed it in her ear. Fiddling with the ear piece, Rogue took a deep breath. While she gained quite a dose of Gambit's heist "confidence", she was slowly getting nerves. While she had been on important missions before, this was on a different caliber than a typical X-Men mission. The professor had expressed to her the clear necessity to not affiliate herself with the X-Men since it was such a dubious mission. In this situation, she was to act as an independent contractor, off the radar, etc. If things went bad… well, she just hoped it wouldn't.

Regardless, this was a vital mission for multiple reasons. There hadn't been much change in mutant politics and that was worrisome for everyone. No news wasn't good news in this case (especially for those who were targeted) and everyone in the Institute had a case of the perpetual jitters.

But on a more superficial level, this was important because _she_ was chosen. She was picked over her mentor for this mission for whatever reason (most likely because she was ironically more agreeable) and she felt all sorts of mushy crap about it. While she would never admit it freely, she knew Gambit was good at what he did and it felt nice that he chose her; it was like she was finally deemed useful and she was grateful. She couldn't mess this up. It was really both of their reputations on the line.

"Two taps for go, three for lay low," she murmured as a reminder to herself.

"And four to get out," Gambit finished solemnly.

"Take both guards out," she repeated to herself almost absentmindedly.

"While I disrupt the surveillance system," he added.

"Let you in, record and repeat the security feed."

"And we'll be on our merry little way."

"And are you _sure_ there are only two guards tonight?"

"Positive. One to sit and monitor the cameras, the other to do a walk around. They switch every hour."

"And it's not gonna look suspicious that a good minute on the feed is… paused?"

"If you catch the guard at the right moment, it shouldn't."

"And-"

"_Chérie,_ I think you're worryin' a little too much," he declared. "Do you need another dose of me?"

"Please, no," she grimaced.

"Then _calme-toi_," he advised almost reassuringly serious. "The only problem there is to this mission is gettin' in. After that, everythin' else is gonna be fine."

Rogue sure as hell hoped so. The nerves creeping up on her induced a different kind of anxiety in her- and it was making the voices antsy. One last check on her external preparations and she settled on the ground Indian-style to begin the internal preparation. She rolled her neck and arms, placing her hands on her knees and exhaling forcefully. It was so quiet outside she didn't have to tune anything out. It was peaceful.

"Are you… meditatin'?"

Well, not completely peaceful. "Mmhm," she murmured, not taking the time to peer up at him as he finished up his preparations. It had never occurred to her that he had never seen her "meditate"- or rather, attempt to corral the voices and quiet everything down so she could concentrate. Inhale by exhale, Rogue tried to "sweep" her voices into the farthest reaches in her mind. With each tiny breath, she scooted them farther and more compact, making sure to not keep Gambit's speculative psyche trapped in the herd. Finally, on her last breath, she imagined encasing them in an impenetrable bubble- see through yet quiet if they tried to break down the barriers. She had been toying around with different shielding methods and so far, this method had a longer margin of time before everything collapsed. That margin of time wasn't anything significant though.

Rogue opened her eyes and noted Gambit sitting silently beside her, eyes squinting through a small set of binoculars.

"You all sorts zen now?" he passed her a set of binoculars.

"As zen as I'll ever be," she replied evenly, taking them and scanning the peripherals of the company. All was dark and quiet and perfectly ominous for a night of breaking and entering. Tingles ran down her spine as she realized how desolate and isolated everything felt in the dark, with only one other person with her. Suddenly, it didn't feel so safe out in the open.

Sweeping her gaze over the campus, time passed in eerie silence until they heard a dulled click echo throughout the property. Grabbing her binoculars, she focused on where she thought she heard the sound and quickly heard the sound of a motor starting. Almost immediately, twin lights flickered on, illuminating the back end of the building. She nudged his attention to the low-beamed lights. "One of the guards is out. Golf car."

The lights began a slow, clockwise wrap-around, disappearing momentarily through the trees and the building parameters and finally reappearing on the building side facing them.

"Alright," he muttered quietly, shoving his binoculars back into his coat. "Looks like the roaming guard decided to finally make his outside round. You ready?"

She stood up immediately. It was time to start "'Course," she tugged her gloves on tighter. "You?"

"_Bien sûr._"

* * *

**Author's Note**: I got so into this that I had to cut this chapter in half. Woo!


	24. Not One Word, Swamp Rat Not One Word

**Disclaimer: **I don't even own the rights to my college degrees and will not for many, many, many years… It's called a starving ex-student, and by the state of my bank account, I'm living the dream.

**Pairing:** Rogue and Gambit

**Rating: **Teen/Mature

**Warnings:** Contains dark and adult themes

**Summary: **It's what happens when two sides collide. The explosion between what you want and what you need, what's right and what's wrong. It's the wreckage. And it could be so easy. ROMY.

* * *

**The Wreckage**

**Chapter Twenty-Four**

**Not One Word, Swamp Rat. Not One Word.**

* * *

They began a quiet running descent down the hill to meet the electric fence. Just beyond the fence hid the discrete back entrance to the building- the entrance Rogue was going to have to rush into once she incapacitated the guard. Hiding behind the bushes, they waited until they heard the motor whine towards them again and complete the round. Slowly, they saw the golf cart and the security guard roll up the side of the building. Rogue almost groaned when she caught a closer glimpse of the guard- he was tall and muscular and not exactly the obese, wheezing, underpaid security guard Gambit had relayed to her. Rogue gave him clearly annoyed look. He just shrugged. Rogue rolled her eyes, trying to stay content with the notion the guard was seemingly beefy enough that his muscles kept him warm on this frigid Thanksgiving night- there was plenty of skin to take him down with.

A furtive look to each other and they knew they were at their fleeting, opportune moment. Rogue dashed a few yards away from Gambit and waited for his quick hand signal. When it didn't come immediately, Rogue thought she was going to scream with anticipation. She was so _ready _to get this party started. What was Gambit waiting for?

A few seconds later and the guard hadn't moved from his seated position. From her angle, she couldn't see what he was even looking at- the guard was stalling for some reason. A muted vibration echoed and for a long dreaded moment, Rogue thought she forgot to turn off her phone. Then the guard chuckled loudly and muttered something in amusement. Relief washed over her as she realized he was on his phone- and not paying attention. Finally, Rogue could see the lights flickering off and heard the motor die off. And at the corner of her eye- she saw Gambit's sudden hand signal, beckoning her forward. Through her lethally quiet sprint towards Gambit, she heard more shuffling from the guard at her peripheral and a single thought zipped through her mind.

'_Fuck. We probably should have practiced this part.' _

Rogue ran onto Gambit's bent knee and his hands wrapped solidly around her waist. She could hear the guard's key ring jingling as Gambit helped spring her in the air, relieved to note the guard's back was turned as she lifted above the fence. Rogue twisted in the air like a pole vaulter and narrowly avoided being pronged and fried on the electric fence. She landed quietly on her feet and immediately took off running while slipping off a glove, praying that Gambit had indeed been a professional and activated the surveillance system scrambler immediately and _not_ ogled her or imagined her in a slutty cheerleader outfit.

The one minute countdown had initiated and Rogue crept silently behind the guard and tapped the back of his neck, taking him out hard and fast. Barely catching him under the weight of her distraction with the memories and his sheer mass, she dragged him over to the golf cart and set him as if he had taken a small nap. Shoving her glove on quickly, she grabbed his key ring and immediately grabbed the standard key to open the door. Before she could stick it in the lock, the guard's memories flashed in front of her urgently and she almost grabbed her head in pain. The name badge- the guards name badge- was an important key card she needed it to gain access to every main entry door in the general building.

Rogue cursed and rolled the guard over to jimmy out the badge from his back pocket. She knew Gambit was probably cursing at her, mentally demanding to know what she was doing. It was a kink in the plan he hadn't realized- and how could he? He had never been inside of the building and the blueprints were crude schematics that didn't include many important factors- like private key card access.

By now, her time had been cut in half and she had to run through the building to make it to the front security guard before he saw her. She flung open the back door and with the assistance of the guard and the schematics, she crept stealthily throughout the building, keeping her senses open to any potential mishap. A peek into the guard's memories had already assured her there were only two guards and no one else in the building; based on what information was available for the other guard, it would be even easier.

Rogue made it through the corridors of the building and soon was met with a clear glass door, the entrance to the company's lobby and the second security guard's post. Rogue attempted to open the door quietly and winced when it still clicked too audibly. Luckily, there was still a small corridor before she saw the edge of the expansive security desk and a wraparound corridor to access the other desk side. She had already alerted her entrance and knew that he would be waiting for her to enter that side. Backing up quickly, she rushed around the other hallway and crept forward slowly, seeing the dark cherry side desk edge. There was no way there was any more time left; she just hoped this guard was just as distracted as his co-worker and was focusing on the other side.

Rogue froze as she heard a wheezing chuckle and slammed herself flatter against the wall.

"Hey man, did you _see_ those knockers I sent ya? Faaantastic." the guard hooted again and she heard the chair creak under his enormous weight. There was no way to tell if he was facing the other side or the monitor; but she had to take the chance. Creeping out, she peered over and saw him grossly engaged in a laptop- a laptop grossly filled with porn.

Rogue rolled her eyes as she slipped off a glove. These were not going to be pleasant thoughts at all, she realized as she slinked up behind him and pressed a hand to his neck quickly. He slumped over and Rogue shuddered. There were too many images of huge breasts in her head for her liking. Slipping her glove back on, she set him so he appeared to be sleeping and quickly tapped her earpiece twice before activating the gate opener. She shuffled through the guards more savory memories and sighed in annoyance with what she found. Another hiccup.

She began messing with the security camera settings when Gambit slinked in through the front door, not even slowed down by the locked door. Show-off.

"Almost finished?"

"Almost," she muttered, copying and pasting the last two hours worth of feed to overlap and erase the last three minutes of breaking and entering while still making it seem like the guards were still on the job.

"Poor, unfortunate soul," he muttered.

She finally looked up to see him shaking his head sadly at the guard's choice of porn (she hoped). Rogue rolled her eyes. "We got a problem," she announced. Snapping off the second guard's key card, she tossed it to him. "These are just for main entrances," she explained. "In order to keep up the ruse that the guards are doin' shit, we gotta use them."

"Doesn't sound difficult. What's the problem?"

"The problem is that the key cards aren't for the labs. To get where we need to go, we need specific lab key-cards."

"Let me guess," he replied plainly. "These numb-skulls don't get access."

"Nope," she popped as she finished fiddling with the camera settings. "And the higher-ups turn off key-card access for those areas at night, so _no one _can get into them."

"Ah, fine then," he relented with a quick wave of his hand. Gambit nudged the security guard, as if to confirm he was out for the count. "How long do you think they'll be out?"

"An hour or two at the least."

"Enough time for Plan B then. _On va_," he decided easily as he began walking towards first key card entry.

Rogue followed after him quickly. "There's a plan B?"

"There's always a plan B," he threw the key card up and opened the door.

"Care to fill me in?" she hissed as they maneuvered quickly through the hallways.

"It's nothing, really," he strode through each door and corner easily until they reached the unavoidable "Laboratory- CAUTION: Biohazard Level 2" sign. "Just your typical, cinematic entry…" he grinned as he looked up.

Rogue groaned as she followed his line of sight. Air conditioning vents. "Seriously?"

"_Absolutemente._" He slipped out a flat head from his coat and gave it to her. "Need a lift?" He clasped his hands and held them out to her.

With a sigh, she set her foot on his hands and stabilized herself using his shoulders.

"Ready?"

"Yeah," she got ready to hoist herself up. "And not one word about my weight, Swamp Rat. Not one word," she glared at him.

Gambit winked cheekily as he hoisted her up with a forced grunt. Rogue growled down at him as she began undoing the vent screws. Throwing everything on the ground, she fished out a small flashlight from her backpack and climbed in. "You comin'?" she hissed behind him.

"Try openin' the door on the other side, first," he called back.

Rogue grumbled as she scooted down the vents. It was musty and dark in the vents and she prayed there were no living things, animal or insect, scurrying alongside her. So far, they'd encountered one minute detail that setback their entire mission. She briefly wondered how this would have gone had she not been on the mission- had it been Logan instead of her. Would they have caught all of this? Would it go this smoothly? Rogue bit back the thoughts; who's to say she wasn't currently jinxing herself with assuming things were going smoothly.

Rogue reached a turn and scooted herself feet first into it. When she reached the next vent, she kicked downwards and the vent and screws ripped off and bounced off the ground. Lowering herself out of the vent slowly, she landed gracefully in the dark hallway. She could see the door Gambit was waiting behind and prayed nothing was set off when she pushed it open.

"You're lucky I'm here, Cajun. There ain't no way your fat-ass would have fit up there," she retorted smugly when she saw his expectant face.

"Sure, it wouldn't have," he smirked, pinching her ass on his way past her.

Rogue swatted him as she followed behind him. The hallways were dark and vaguely illuminated enough to show one side lined with large containers with blinking dots and numbers. "What are these?" she almost whispered. Rogue had the vague sense she was walking into a mad scientist laboratory by the eerie quietness besides the whirring of the containers.

"Freezers," he answered.

Rogue almost stopped, pondering what freezers _that_ large could be carrying. She swallowed back the bile of fear that suddenly rose up. There was a part of her that wanted to know what exactly was inside, but a larger part reminded her that ignorance was blissful bliss. They crept past another set of double doors and a forked hallway. Turning left, they were met with another long hallway- with both sides lined with freezers and refrigerators. "Jesus," she breathed. "What goes on in this place?" She resisted the urge to touch the freezers.

"Clinical trials, sample collection, testin'," Gambit answered back.

"Sample collection?"

Maybe her squeaking voice betrayed her. "They aren't housin' corpses here, _chérie_," he reassured her plainly.

"How do you-" she started back before a piercing screech sliced the air. She immediately jumped and slapped her hands over her ears. Gambit immediately whipped around with a charge card, searching for the source of the offending noise.

"What the hell is that?" Rogue hissed through her panic.

"A freezer alarm," he gritted back, marching over towards the shrieking freezer. A few moments later and it turned itself off, lights still blinking. "It fell below the set temperature and it set off the alarm," he determined, reading the posted note over the freezer.

"We didn't do that, right?"

"Hope not," he muttered. Grabbing her arm, he pulled her back down the hallway. "Come on, we really gotta get movin'."

"Yeah," she muttered, still staring at the blinking freezer. The sudden noise amped up her already tense nerves- as if she needed the added wake-up call.

They moved quickly down the hall, reading each room carefully aloud as to not miss the designation. Finally, at the last turn of the hallway, they were met with another two large double doors, clearly signified by the "CAUTION: Authorized Personnel Only. Lab Coat and Gloves REQUIRED."

"Well, this seems invitin'," she muttered.

"Invitin' and locked. Another key card."

Rogue looked up and around. "There aren't any vents," she realized.

Gambit shook his head. "Looks like it's an isolated lab."

"What do you mean 'isolated'?"

"The ventilation system is closed off. It means they're workin' with dangerous aerosols in there."

"You mean we could _die_ if we breathe in that room?" This was _not_ what Rogue signed up for.

"Maybe not die," he mused. "Grow an extra head? Maybe."

"What?" She didn't feel like growing an extra head either.

Gambit chuckled and nudged her. "Just kiddin', sheesh. It means we use these," he pulled out two black handkerchiefs. Handing her one, he tied the other around his nose and mouth. "Just a precaution, a poor one at that. These labs generally only mean you're fucked if somethin' spills or gets released in the air."

"That's reassurin'," she mumbled sarcastically, tying the black fabric around her nose. "Now how do we get in?" Rogue aimed her flashlight around various walls and found nothing immediately jump out at her. "Kitty would be so useful right now," Rogue muttered, heaving a sigh. So much for everything going well; she really did jinx them, didn't she?

Gambit, looking carefully around for any immediate signs of entry, merely shrugged. "Ah well, it was gonna happen eventually."

"What was?"

"Nothin' normally goes this smoothly. Besides, why do you think they call it _breakin'_ and enterin'? So far we haven't broken anythin'- and that's almost a crime in itself."

Rogue wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Isn't the point of this to _not _look like anyone's been in here?"

"Things break all the time, _chérie_," he waved her off as he procured some discrete ring of picks. "Our job is to make it look like an accidental occurrence."

Gambit bent on his knees in front of the key card panel and popped off the panel cover. With a quick moment of consideration, he poked around a few wires and clicked his tongue against his teeth.

Rogue continued to survey the dark, empty halls in paranoia and winced each time the freezer's alarm pierced the air.

"It's just so rudimentary," he muttered in disdain.

"Isn't that a good thing?"

"For us, _oui_. For them, _non_. For it being such a top secret area, they have some abismal security systems."

"How so?"

With the long, seemingly unmarked pick, Gambit gently pulled a seemingly unmarked wire out of place. "See this?" Rogue shined her light on it, only to see it was a green wire. Typical. "This wire is the only thing that stands between us and the other side. This fries, breaks, or even stretches a little too far out, you gotta literally break the door down, then rewire the entire system to get inside again. It's _too_ easy to break this, much less access it."

"Okay, so obviously we don't break it before we go in. What's the plan then?"

"Charge it," he grinned, lightly pinching the single wire between his gloved fingers.

"Woah- wait," she almost yanked his hand back, but stopped herself. "Didn't you _just say-_"

"Stand back," he grinned, letting his gloves pass on a low-light charge. Rogue jumped back when she heard the doors beside her lurch open and lunged forward to keep it from closing in on itself. He reabsorbed the charge just after she pried the door open and soon after, a small pop was heard. He just shrugged. "Serves them right. It's an insult to security, really," he muttered as he clicked the panel cover back over the key card.

Another, more persistent beeping started up on the wall right next to Rogue. "Hurry up," she hissed, reading the panel display next to her. It made no sense to her, but a negative number was definitely flashing and increasing every second she held open the door. Gambit finished wiggling the panel into place and slipped in. Within a few seconds the beeping had stopped. "Okay, what was _that_?" her heart was racing as she pulled the door shut.

Gambit studied the display, watching its number trickle back to a solid negative number. "It's a pressurized room," he explained. "It prevents diseases from leavin' the room."

Rogue made a face. "All this precaution makes me feel like I should be dipped in bleach when I get home."

"I'll probably need to, _aussi_," he flicked on a light switch, probably more for her convenience than his. "And I should probably join you- just to save time and resources, of course."

Rogue flipped her backpack around her torso and fake-gagged. "That would be redundant. The point of a bleach bath is to get _clean_, not to get even filthier."

"Bleach cleans itself," he reminded as he surveyed the expansive room.

"You would think," she snorted, digging around until she found a small camera. "But your mind's just so dirty, I reckon it wouldn't matter what you used- you'd never get clean."

"Your words, they wound me so, _chérie,_" he muttered absentmindedly as he found a laptop scooted off to the side and plopped himself in a rolling chair.

Rogue heard the laptop boot up as she began taking meticulous pictures of entire laboratory. She opened every drawer and cabinet, making sure the pictures covered every inch of the laboratory that Gambit wasn't currently occupied in. Making her way over to the actual work bench, she groaned when she found a half dozen dense and thick laboratory notebooks. She began taking meticulous pictures of everything documented in the notebooks, tediously flipping page by page.

After the reassurance Gambit provided, that missions never went as smoothly as this, she felt slightly less paranoid as she easily invaded the laboratory's privacy. Was this really all there was to breaking and entering? Had she known, she might have done it sooner.

And with that errant thought following another and Rogue had to wonder if she was ultimately fulfilling Destiny's and Mystique's assumed destiny for herself. Granted, the ultimate goal of the mission wasn't to indulge in terrorist activities, but it had the same foundation of the typical terrorist lifestyle- the lifestyle she had been primed for. She snorted lightly at the thought as she ran though the notebooks.

"Somethin' funny?" Gambit's voice broke the dull clicking of her camera.

She gave a faint smile as she continued clicking. "I'm just thinkin' about the irony of all this," she mused, clicking away.

"Which is?"

"How I tried so hard to get out from Mystique's influence, but I still ended up doin' what she intended for me." Rogue chuckled and shook her head. Having put some time and distance between her and Mystique's influence, the situation was mildly amusing at best.

"At least it was of your own free will," he offered.

"Yeah, I guess," she shrugged half-heartedly. It was true; she did volunteer herself for this. Well, technically she volunteered herself for something criminal out of sheer boredom- and then Logan had to get all up in her business and she rallied for this mission out of sheer spite. But it was her in her right mind to make the decision… kind of. "No brain-washin' this time around."

"You got your own reasons for doin' this and it has nothin' to do with Mystique's ideology," he added.

"Yeah, I know," she sighed. "I guess I'm more bothered by the fact that I'm _not_ bothered I'm doin' this, y'know?"

"You feelin' like she won?"

"A little bit," she confessed, pondering the cosmic purpose of the various life events leading up to this point in time.

"Doesn't help that you're pretty good at this kind of stuff, either," he added genially.

"Pretty good or pretty useful?" she muttered. It wasn't any doubt as to why she'd be decent at all- everything always came back to her mutation.

"You're pretty useful because you're pretty good," Gambit answered firmly.

The unyielding tone of his voice startled her and Rogue looked up to see him staring directly at her. She felt her face flush slightly at his words; he knew exactly where she was going with her thoughts and snapped her out of twisting his words. Looking away quickly, Rogue awkwardly began rapidly picture-taking and she heard him return to clicking away on the laptop.

In all retrospect, she probably deserved a snappy answer. When it came to her powers, the musings of her mind were always best voiced inside her head. Nobody liked a pity-party and she forgot that Gambit was a self-proclaimed "sunny-side up" kind of guy. She found that so counterintuitive to what she already pictured him as; maybe it was his eyes that made it so hard to believe. Either way, this was the second time he'd so openly corrected her for her darker musings, whereas everyone else merely danced around pity and half-hearted hugs.

She sighed. One would have thought she'd be better at holding these thoughts in by now.

"How long have we been on-site?" she finally broke the silence as she shut the last notebook.

Gambit glance down at his watch. "Almost an hour. Why?"

"You almost done?"

"Almost."

Rogue nodded grimly. She could feel the psyches of the two guards slowly fade. It was entirely possible they were going to fade within the next hour.

"You done?"

She shook her head. "I still gotta get your area."

"And it looks like somewhere else, too," he added, preoccupied and pointing at the screen.

"What's that?" she walked around the bench to see what Gambit was pointing at.

"Looks like the locations of all the samples."

Rogue squinted as she tried to make sense of the spreadsheet. It was jumbled with a complicated series numbers and letters, seemingly organized but entirely foreign to her. "How the heck is _this_ supposed to tell me where the samples are?"

Gambit scrolled to the top and pointed at the header of the column. "Those are freezer numbers," he explained. Moving right, he pointed at the next column. "These are the individual sample numbers."

"And these?" she pointed to the remaining individual numbers and letters.

"Those are the exact position of each sample in each box."

Rogue yanked the mouse out of his hand and scrolled down until she reached the end of the spreadsheet. It took a few minutes, to which she felt her stomach dropping bit by bit. "Holy hell," she breathed. "That's… well over fifteen thousand samples."

"Looks like there's more, actually, but those are for different studies."

"Does that mean I gotta take pictures of each one?" she realized with a groan.

"Not enough time. I think it'll be good enough to get the freezer and the inside layout."

Rogue relinquished control of the mouse and looked around. She hadn't remembered taking pictures of a freezer, but she wasn't really paying attention to what she was doing. "Where's the freezer then?"

Gambit yanked his finger towards the lab room entrance. "Probably out there."

"Which one?"

"I dunno. But you gotta find that one," he pointed to the obscenely long number and letter combination on the spreadsheet.

"Alright," she muttered, not happy she would be alone in the dark hallway with the creepy, shrieking freezer. "Just get outta my way so I can finish up in here."

Turning off the laptop screen, Gambit pushed off against the lab bench and she continued taking pictures quickly. "Hurry up with this," she advised. "I can feel the guards fadin'."

"How much time do we have left?"

"Thirty minutes, maybe less," she shook her head. It was always harder to gauge a human's presence in her mind; she was much more suited for absorbing mutant minds.

"We should be fine then."

"We still gotta put the vents back in place," she reminded.

"We'll be fine. Now shoo," he waved her off.

"I hope that's not the one that keeps goin' off," she muttered as she shoved the door open. Taking out her flashlight, she illuminated the tags on each identical freezer, passing by each one that didn't match the numbers she had quickly memorized. Passing by ten freezers, she finally stumbled upon hers and readied her camera to flash. It was ridiculously dark without the lights on and without Gambit's presence, it was too lonely. While she knew there were only four people on the premises (two of them taking a nap), she still felt as though each dark corner and corridor held some watching lurker. It was ridiculous, she knew.

Reading the instructions on the freezer carefully, she shuddered and hoped her gloves were up to the challenge. Hoisting all her body weight against the stubborn freezer door, a plume of cold air burst out and exposed metal racks filling each available freezer space. Propping up the freezer door, she clicked away before lifting the frigid metal rack out. It was surprisingly heavy. Each rack contained seven stacked boxes, held in by a metal rod. Taking out the rod, she carefully shimmied one white box out and opened it up. Each box was packed tightly with little white vials, tightly capped and labeled with a barcode and a number.

Rogue took one sample out and examined it closely. There was hardly anything in it, only a thin layer of frozen solid, slightly tinged red. She winced.

"Whatcha got there?"

Rogue nearly jumped out of her skin with Gambit's low voice so close to her ear. She gripped the entire box tighter. "Jesus Christ, Cajun! I could have knocked this entire thing over!"

"But you didn't, so good job," he hummed, picking up another sample and examining at it.

Rogue snapped a few more pictures before putting the sample back.

"Poor sonofabitch," Gambit tossed the vial in the air before slipping the sample back in the box. "Probably didn't even know what hit him."

"What do you mean?" She shoved the box back in the rack and fitting the rod to hold it in.

"I highly doubt these samples were obtained… honestly," he chose his words carefully, putting the rack back into the freezer for her and shutting the freezer lid.

"So you're wonderin' how many were captured?" It brought back memories of being encased in green goo, being chipped out, gassed, and prodded. It wasn't something she wished on many people.

"Captured, conned, talked into even, tricked," he elaborated.

"Tricked?"

"Public hospitals these days are hurtin' for money. Give them a little money and they give you a little DNA in return. The mutant is none the wiser."

The thought made Rogue all the more grateful Professor Xavier was loaded enough to have his own means for medical care- even if it was for only a handful of mutants.

"Come on," she started walking briskly towards the exit and dropping her camera back in her backpack. "Need your help to get the vents straight."

Gambit hoisted her up without a peep and she began vigorously re-twisting the screws. With a final glance to make sure nothing else was askew, they cautiously opened the heavy door and found nothing waiting for them on the other side. He lifted her up to finish the last vent wordlessly and upon landing, Rogue felt the very last vestiges of the first guard's psyche begin to wisp away.

Rogue froze momentarily before snapping herself back into action. "Come on," she tugged him quickly down the halls. "We gotta _go_."

"How much time?" he asked, finally alerted to her serious panic.

"A few minutes," she answered grimly. She wasn't used to absorbing humans, especially large, beefy ones like the first guard. This was the kink in the plan even she hadn't anticipated; this could make or break the night. "Enough time to get you to the gate and scramble the cameras while I open the gate."

They rounded the first main access door and peered out though the glass. She could feel the other guard also slip from her mind, but at a more sluggish rate than the first. Pushing through, they swung through the side entrance and peered over. The guard was still out.

"You go and wait by the gate," she commanded low as she began fiddling with the computer files again. "I'll give the signal when to use the scrambler and then I'm openin' the gate."

"The guard in the back gonna be awake?"

"He might be," she bit her lip anxiously. "But he should be disoriented more than anythin', so he won't be payin' attention if you don't bring any attention to yourself."

Gambit nodded and pressed his lock-pick set into her gloved hands. "Don't forget to lock up when you leave," he reminded.

"Will do. Now _go_," she shooed him.

Gambit hopped over the reception desk and right as he almost reached the door, she saw the dangling key card still attached to him. "Wait!" she hissed.

Gambit snapped around and she pointed at her own badge. With a quick flick, he ripped it off and threw it at her. The key-card slipped through her gloved hand and hit the desk with a metallic thud. Time stopped as she heard the breathy groan and twitch of the guard next to her.

Rogue's eyes widened and she met Gambit's gaze in alarm. She mouthed a frantic "go" to him and he slipped off easily, the doors making no noise.

Rogue's heart started pounding as she placed the guard's name badges and keys on the desk quietly. With one key-press, she exited out of all programs she had been fiddling with and just as the pudgy guard's head lifted, she rolled under the desk and curled herself up against the wall and prayed the guard didn't kick her in the face. Remembering to tap her ear-piece three times, she held her breath; she didn't know how she was going to get out of this, but she had to try.

The groans of the waking guard echoed in the empty room.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ," he grumbled. "What was in that damn turkey? That was not a good nap."

Rogue almost breathed a sigh of relief. At least he didn't think of mutant involvement- yet. She could imagine a security job in the dead of night on Thanksgiving giving plenty of opportunities for a nap- and he didn't sound unfamiliar with the concept on a regular shift either. The creaking of the chair and the labored sighs probably indicated he was rubbing his head, trying to catch his bearings.

"Jesus, I was out for that long?" he chuckled morosely. "That Jack- a good guy taking my turn. Where is that sonofabitch now?" he muttered.

Rogue debated her next plan of action with bated breath. She could see a small sliver of skin through his pants and began to inch her glove off quietly.

The guard suddenly hooted and Rogue's heart stopped. What the hell was he laughing about? "Left his keys and took a nap! Poor guy must be freezing."

Rogue froze and repeated the words in her head. Did the guard just give her a way out?

The guard slapped his hands on his knees suddenly and pushed his rolling chair back with some effort. Rogue curled up more, hoping he didn't have inkling to check underneath his desk for anything. With a grunt (it sounded like this guy seriously had issues with movement), he got up from his post and sounded like he grabbed the keys and badge for the other guard. He whistled as he waddled away, taking no issue with leaving his post unattended.

As soon as she heard the main access door shut, Rogue rolled back out from under her desk and immediately started fiddling with the camera files again. With a speed she didn't realize possible, she undid the changes she set and before she saved, she tapped her earpiece twice. Her heart pounded anxiously as she waited the long two seconds before she heard a response. She saved the settings, closed everything out and slapped the gate opener quickly. Vaulting over the desk to save time, she ran through the front glass doors and shut them quickly, sticking Gambit's lock-picks in and locking the doors. The second she heard the faint click, she shot off into the dim parking lot and sprinted when she saw the gates closing. Rogue dove through the gates at the last second and continued sprinting through the trees and up the hill.

Gambit was waiting for her at the top of the hill, about to wheel his bike off.

"Everythin' go well?"

Rogue shook out her hair and hastily put on the helmet he handed to her. "Yeah," she heaved. "The desk guard blamed his nap on turkey and figured the other guard was nappin' outside. I don't think they'll notice anything."

"I told you we'd be fine."

Rogue rolled her eyes and peered down at the campus. It was dead silent and the guards had resumed their posts inside. "What now?"

"We go," he hopped on the back of his bike. "Never linger at the scene of the crime."

"Good," she sighed in relief and hopped on behind him. There was a tense cramping in her chest that she knew wouldn't be relieved until she was far away from this place. "All I want a shower and some leftover turkey."

"Can I-"

"_No_."

"Sheesh, _chérie_," he peered at her mischievously through his helmet as he started the engine. "I just wanted some leftovers too."

* * *

**Author's Note:** That was fun and exhausting. More Thanksgiving break fun to come soon. On a nostalgic note, anybody recognize where the title comes from? A symbolic fresh chocolate-glazed doughnut from the awesome doughnut man across the street to anyone that does! Thank you all for the reviews and alerts/favorites. Feel free to drop me a bitty line or word (yes, alerters/favoriters, I'm talking to _you _too), I will appreciate it greatly!


	25. A Bit of That Holiday Cheer

**Disclaimer: **I don't even own the rights to my college degrees and will not for many, many, many years… It's called a starving ex-student, and by the state of my bank account, I'm living the dream.

**Pairing:** Rogue and Gambit

**Rating: **Teen/Mature

**Warnings:** Contains dark and adult themes

**Summary: **It's what happens when two sides collide. The explosion between what you want and what you need, what's right and what's wrong. It's the wreckage. And it could be so easy. ROMY.

* * *

**The Wreckage**

**Chapter Twenty-Five**

**A Bit of That Holiday Cheer**

**or**

**That Which Cannot Be Unseen**

* * *

Rogue could feel his eyes scrutinizing her current position, but she didn't give a flying backflip. Last night she had done the world good (she assumed) and she was feeling a little more hopeful that every time she turned a corner, she wouldn't be drugged/attacked/kidnapped. After her celebratory killing spree last night, she had slept late and woke up later. She was tired and hungry and enjoying the sheer simplicity of an empty mansion to its absolute fullest.

"You do own a clock, right?"

Only her eyes briefly flitted over to him hanging over the back of the couch. He didn't know she smashed another alarm clock this month, did he? "What does it matter?"

"It's half past noon."

"So?" she raised an eyebrow.

Remy obviously ran his eyes over her lazy form. For once, she realized it wasn't to ogle her. It was clearly a look of judgment. "You're eatin' a bowl of cereal in your pajamas."

"So observant, Captain Obvious," she slurped a large spoonful of her sweet, delicious, fatty cinnamon treat from the bowl resting on her boobs and proceeded to give him a clearly unimpressed look. "And for your information, I'm not in my pajamas. These are just regular lazy people clothes."

"My mistake," he raised his eyebrows sarcastically before hopping over the couch.

"Hey!" she yelped as she jumped up quickly to avoid her cereal milk sloshing over her front. A wet and milky shirt in front of Remy would be hard to live down, not to mention ruin the wonderful start her day was having. She grumbled as she scrunched to her side of the couch. Of all the seating available in the room, he always chose next to her.

Remy tugged at her shoe anyways and grinned. "Good to know you feel comfortable enough around me to wear these. I'm flattered."

"Well, don't be," Rogue narrowed her eyes and huffed in annoyance, pulling her feet back into herself. "No point in hidin' them when you're the one who blackmailed me with 'em."

"Blackmail, hmm? Whatever makes you feel better, _chére_," he hummed as he flicked through the channels. She hadn't even realized he stole the remote again. Damn sneak.

Rogue ignored him and finished off the last of her cereal, setting the bowl off to the side and stretching. At least she was doing the same thing every other Institute resident was indulging in- eating ridiculously sugary foods with ridiculously fatty milk as breakfast/lunch/dinner. It was nice to not have mandatory Danger Room sessions during the holidays and even nicer it wasn't by Logan's ruling.

"No Black Friday shenanigans for you?"

Her eyes couldn't help but flicker over to his face quickly for a double take. It always unnerved her when he asked these random, conversational questions. It always made her suspicious of what secretive double entendre he was waiting to spew.

"No," she reluctantly answered. "Capitalistic mobs aren't really my thing." Not to mention the fact she was under house arrest for the hell of it. Honestly, she doubted any student that was at home for the holidays was under constant surveillance like she was.

"Not even online shoppin'?"

"You're talkin' to the wrong girl," she snorted. "Maybe I should re-introduce you to Jubes and Kitty when they get back."

From the corner of her eye she saw him shrug. "That's too bad. There were some good deals today."

"Let me guess," she began dryly. "'Good deals' is Swamp Rat for 'good steals'?"

"First, we've been over this. I can't steal while I'm here, I merely… distribute evenly. Spread a bit of that holiday cheer. Take from the rich and -"

"Okay, Robin Hood," she stopped him from spewing more bullshit to her sensitive ears. Then the implications hit her and she sat up straight in disbelief. "Wait. Does this mean you actually _bought_ somethin'?"

"I buy things all the time. Take these for instance," he tugged at her boots with a shit-eating grin.

"But that was a purchase of revenge- for a favor," she reminded him as she yanked her foot back again. "That doesn't count."

"It doesn't?" He playfully frowned at her and it was almost comical how it clashed with his eyes. "I'm hurt."

"Oh, whatever," she kicked him lightly and resumed her television consumption. The implications of his legal purchases kept bugging her and he said nothing to solve the mystery. What could he have needed so bad that he had to buy? Her curiosity gnawed at her until she could bit her tongue no more.

"Okay, fine. What did you get?"

He chuckled lightly. "A TV."

Her jaw almost dropped. Televisions these days were a bit on the extravagant side of purchases these days… "A TV?"

"For some reason, you sound unfamiliar with the concept," he mused drily, pointing at the TV in front of her.

"That's just… really random…" she tried to explain.

"How so?"

She scrunched up her nose a bit. Somehow, combining him and a common, lowly activity of staring at a screen for hours on end didn't really add up. "Random for you. I can see everyone else sittin' still for more than thirty minutes, fascinated with the trivial dramas of modern day entertainment, but not you." It was an odd paring considering he was constantly hopped up on himself.

"Just because I tend to live outside the law doesn't mean I don't enjoy typical, mindless American activities too."

"I guess," she shrugged, almost confused. And then another thought hit her. "When did you even go?" She figured she would have at least heard something as massive as a TV being lugged through the Institute.

"This mornin'."

And he didn't even think to ask- her eyes almost widened in alarm and she stopped that thought _dead_ in its track. "Jeez, do you ever sleep?" Regardless, she was positive he went to sleep _after_ her- and that was after sunrise.

Remy shrugged noncommittally. "Eh."

Rogue slapped her head. What was it with these other mutants not needing sleep?

"Unless if you mean _sleep_ you mean-"

"No, I _didn't_," she kicked him. "Not all of us speak in double entendres all of time."

"Just makin' sure."

Why did he insist on switching every conversation they ever had into something dirty? And was this something she'd have to get used to? The thought was worrying. "So, how does it feel havin' one of the very few, precious TVs here?"

"I didn't realize it was such big deal."

"You've obviously never seen Jubilee and Bobby goin' at it for control of the remote then- hey, do you get cable up there?"

His eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"Oh, no reason," she shrugged, feeling a bubbling laugh erupt from her diaphragm. "I just wonder how you're gonna stop a hoard of girls from gatherin' in your room durin' primetime. I heard the next episode of Glee is going to be _killer_."

Was it just her wishful thinking, or did his face blanched ever so slightly?

"Didn't think of that, did ya?" she grinned evilly.

"_Non,_" he ran his hands through his hair in agitation. "But that's all I'm gonna think of now, thanks."

"Glad I could spread a bit of that holiday cheer, too," she sighed happily. "And I'm sure I'll _really_ spread it around when all the girls come back…" she threatened lightly as she leaned back leisurely.

"You wouldn't," he muttered lowly.

"Oh, I'm sure it'll come up, say, primetime Tuesday?" Rogue tapped her chin innocently. "I can almost see it happenin' now." Rogue waved her hand loftily in the air in front of her face. "Kitty will ask me what I did all break and Jubes or Tabby will ask me what _you_ did all break. I'll, of course, answer with 'why the hell would I know' but then I'll remember that interestin' tidbit – you know, how you got a brand, spankin' new flatscreen…"

She took a long moment to look at him squarely in the eye. "And the conversation will stop there because _everyone_ will want to check it out."

In the few months she had been around him, very few times had his poker face dropped completely and revealed his visible annoyance. Whether it was by her, by her barely conceal threat or the certain validity of her predictions, the annoyance thrilled her and she could hardly conceal her glee.

"Price."

"What was that?" she leaned her ear in closer.

"Your price," he deadpanned. "What is it?"

"The price of?" she fluttered her eyelashes a little. It felt wrong. She stopped immediately.

"Your silence."

"Oh_ that_," she nodded finally. "Well, you know what they say. If you have to ask…"

He growled a bit.

"Tell you what," she smirked. "My lips are sealed… because of that favor you now owe me."

Remy narrowed his eyes. Really, he should have expected this. "What kind of favor?"

"Dunno yet," Rogue shrugged leisurely and rolled her eyes at his dubious expression. "It won't go against your morals or anythin' like that," she mimicked him shamelessly, recalling the conversation they had only weeks before. "Well, what loose ones you claim to have anyways."

By the amount of time it took Remy to consider the situation, it was obvious he didn't particularly like being in debt to anyone. Letting unused favors loom over the heads of others though? He had no problem with. It felt nice to put on over him, even if she didn't really intend to ever cash in on it.

Maybe he called her bluff too, as he finally nodded in agreement. "Fine. Your silence grants you _one_ favor."

"I say nothing about you ownin' a TV and I get one favor, no expiration date, within reasonable moral boundaries," she repeated.

"Ownin' a TV, watchin' TV, talkin' about TV. _Nothin'_ 'bout TVs and me in the same sentence."

She nodded stiffly. "Agreed."

Remy stuck out his hand and she reached out to shake it firmly.

"Damn schemers, all of you," he grumbled as he stood up.

"Like you're one to talk," she scoffed.

He mimicked her feminine voice poorly as he walked out the room.

"Hey Remy," she called back.

"What?" she heard him mutter a moment later.

"I imagine you bought a Blu-Ray player, too. And _that_ technically isn't a TV…"

She heard him cursing in French even as she heard him enter the elevator to the lower levels. She laughed manically. That last part was just for kicks and he definitely called her bluff, knowing she would be honorable about this. But still, she had a fantastic time annoying him. That's what you get when you judge someone for being lazy on her day off. You get blackmailed.

* * *

After the third round of screaming, Rogue paused her game and picked up her screeching phone from its vibrating dance on the floor. A glance at the caller ID and she winced. Due to the day and the sheer persistence, she had really assumed it was Kitty calling about the day's purchases. After seeing it was Wanda, she felt a little guilty.

"Hey, sorry. I thought you were Kitty," she answered sheepishly.

"It's understandable. It is National Shopping Day after all. Now get up," Wanda commanded briskly.

Rogue sat up a little straighter. "Uh…"

"Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair."

"Wait- what?"

"Get up off your X-box whoring ass and put on some actual pants. I'm outside."

"Outside where?"

"You hear this?" Wanda asked in annoyance and a blaring car horn resonated in Rogue's ear. Faintly, she could hear it outside- or was that just the ringing in her ears?

"What the _hell_?"

"Work your magic and make the guards grant you fresh air. You look like you could use some good, old-fashioned vitamin D."

"Isn't magic your thing? And it's completely overcast outside."

"I alter probabilities, dear. And having your friend waiting oh-so-patiently at your front gate is altering the probability of getting you to _stay over tonight_."

A grin blossomed on Rogue's face. "I'll see what I can do."

"Good. Don't forget about pants," Wanda reminded cheerfully as she hung up.

Rogue sprinted to the Professor's office and halted herself barely before she slammed into the door. Taking a moment to calm herself and clear her thoughts, she politely knocked on the door before entering as she heard the syllables come out of his mouth.

"Hey, Professor X," she grinned brightly, hoping it would help her campaign. "Wanda's outside and she's wonderin' if I could maybe please stay the night and visit with her and the rest of the Brotherhood and put a smile on their faces with my company?" It was a rushed, half-formulated plea for permission but maybe a sheepish smile and little fluttering of eyelashes would help…

Bu it didn't. The Professor's forehead creased as he dissected her sentence. "Rogue, you know it's not safe to be out alone right now."

"But I'm not alone," she interjected. "Wanda's outside and then it's like a two minute drive down to their house and then the rest of the boys are there. I'll be _fine_."

He sighed. "I realize, but I'm not aware of what their security situation is. It wouldn't be-"

"But Bucketh- I mean Magneto vamped up their entire security system and-"

"I understand he did but I would feel much better if you slept under the Institute's protection, just until I confer with Magnus the state of security."

Rogue heart and face fell a bit. "So it's a no…"

"Feel free to invite Wanda to spend the night though," he offered.

Rogue chewed her lip. There was a reason Wanda came to pick her up unannounced. "Even if I can't stay the night, may I still go over? And they could drop me off later?"

It was a compromise and he _had_ to consider it more thoroughly. "I'm not so sure I like having teenagers out past curfew," he answered slowly. "You are still minors and being recognizable mutants out past curfew wouldn't hold well with law enforcement in the event something happened."

"Can someone here pick me up? Storm? Hank?" It was borderline whiney, but the thought of spending some time elsewhere was too nice to pass up.

The Professor shook his head. "They're all out at the moment. Logan, too, of course."

"What about Remy?" Rogue blurted out without thinking.

The Professor sighed. There it was- the solution. "I don't know what his plans are. I'd have to ask-"

"I'll ask!" Hope danged in front of her face once more and she visibly startled the Professor with her (desperate) enthusiasm. "Do you know where he is?"

"He's… in his room…"

"I'll be right back," she called back as she skidded out and upstairs.

Almost tripped before his door, she didn't bother calming herself down. "Hey hey," she banged on the door. "Hey!"

"_Oui_?" she heard him through the door. For some reason, she took that as the okay to open the door. She immediately wished she hadn't.

Rogue's face flushed as she stared at a still dripping wet Remy with a towel slung _dangerously_ low on his hips. Out of habit, she recoiled from his room and stepped into the safety of the hallway. (Did the Professor turn up the heat? It was so very _warm _in here_._) But for some reason, her wide eyes couldn't tear away from the deliciously defined ridges and tanned planes and _oh dear god, was that an eight-pack?_

She had never seen him so… naked and it jolted her out of reality for a hot moment. Jubilee and Tabitha did _not_ do him justice and there was no repressing that errant thought.

Rogue hastily made sure her gloves and long sweater over lapped as she stuttered in the seemingly endless silence. "Sorry, I- I didn't realize," she tugged her sweater to cover more of her neck. It didn't help that she was flashing back to that first drunken motorcycle escapade those months back, where she could feel every muscle she was now looking at…

"Can I help you with somethin', _chére_?" he smirked in amusement, stepping ever so close to her.

"No," she sputtered quickly. "Wait- I mean yeah. I mean, maybe- I mean- would you put some damn clothes on! I could kill you!" she almost shrieked. _Why couldn't she look away? _And he would let her almost kill him, because he insisted she use her imagination on him yesterday and he wasn't joking…

"I was about to, but I was interrupted," he cocked his head to the side, clearly amused.

"Well, hurry up, then," she snapped with flamingly red cheeks, or at least, that's what it felt like.

"I will- do you wanna help?" he offered.

"No!" she almost shouted. _It's like he's photoshopped!_

"Then you might want to close the door," he smirked.

Rogue leapt to yank the door knob just as Remy whipped off the edge of his towel. If she didn't need desperately him to pick her up from the Brotherhood house tonight, she would have beat on him a little bit for his clear disregard for her personal comfort.

A few seconds later, the door whipped open and a still-amused-but-now-clothed Remy was smirking down on her. "What can I do for you… _chére_?"

She begged her warm cheeks to calm down as she glared up at him. Having clothes on didn't help- she couldn't unseen what she had just seen.

"You busy tonight?" she finally choked out and immediately regretted the words. Honestly, what was wrong with her? It wasn't as if she had never seen a half-naked guy before- and it was _Remy_, the Cajun sleeze-ball that oozed STD.

_Kurt and Logan don't count, _Kitty's psych hissed at her sharply.

Remy_, however, counts as a half-naked man biscuit, _Jubilee sighed.

_Agreed. _Tabby purred. _What I give to sink my teeth into his-_

She shoved them back into the deep crevices of her mind before flitting back to the present. Wait- did he just ask her if she was asking him out on a date?

"I'm not askin' you out on a date, you perv!" she exclaimed indignantly.

With a fake, dejected sigh, he walked back into his room and picked up a comb from his dresser. "Then I'm afraid I am most definitely busy tonight," he ran the comb through his shaggy hair as he admired himself through his mirror.

Her hopes fell immediately. She _really _needed his assistance tonight. "Like, all night?" She hated how meek her voice sounded.

His eyes flickered briefly towards hers through the mirror. "Maybe not all night. Just until after I make the drop."

"And that's around what time?" she asked hopefully.

He shrugged noncommittally. "Why does it matter?"

She meandered into his room a bit and leaned against the door as nonchalantly as she could given her burning cheeks. "Well, Wanda invited me over but the Prof won't let me stay the night… And Logan's M.I.A."

"So you need a chauffeur?" he finished.

"Yeah," she grinned weakly.

"And nobody else is around?"

"No one."

"Not even St. John?"

"I… don't think so," Rogue paused and thought. "Actually, I don't remember the last time I saw him."

"Me neither." Remy paused and furrowed his brows in thought. Burgeoning panic swelled in Rogue chest but Remy squashed it with an indifferent shrugged. "Eh, he'll show up. He always does."

"So…?" she bit her lip as pitifully as she could. "Please? I helped you with your mission, help me with mine?"

Remy gave her a long, calculating stare and finally shook his head with a smirk. "Fine."

"Yes," she hissed.

"Gotta work on your bargainin' skills though. Didn't need to play the heavy so early in the game, _chére_," he advised.

She couldn't resist the grin blossoming on her face. This was going to be a good night. "Does it matter? Got you to do my biddin' either way."

"_Touché_."

"Call me when you're on your way," she waved as she skidded down the hallway to put on real pants and to tell the Professor the final verdict. "And this doesn't count as that favor you owe me!"

Ten minutes and a pair of pants later, Rogue was running out of the Institute knowing that until she left the grounds, permission could be resigned at any moment.

"You know, I'm almost surprised Xavier didn't call my dad to make sure it was okay for you to come over for to play," Wanda fluttered her eyelashes in sarcasm as Rogue hopped over the broken door. _Safe_.

"Same here," Rogue muttered, clicking the near-defective seatbelt into place. "I'm just surprised he let me go at all."

"It's too bad you can't stay the night. It'll make things a bit more difficult," Wanda heaved a playful sigh as she peeled down the road.

"What things more difficult?" The mischievous glint in Wanda's eye gave her little butterflies of nervous anticipation.

St. John cackled suddenly, flinging off a blanket he had been hiding under in the back of the jeep.

"Holy mother-" Rogue flinched away from the grinning redhead. "_This_ is where he's been hidin' out?"

"Yeah, he just kind of showed up at the house the other day. Said it was going to be boring at the Institute for a couple days."

"And you haven't kicked him out yet?" Rogue scooted away from the fiery heat emanating from the backseat, protectively tucking her hair into her hood.

Wanda looked unwaveringly ahead with a straight face. "He has his… _uses_."

"Does he now?" Rogue let a small smile inch onto her face as she peered into the backseat. "St. John," she began sweetly. "Can I see what you have under the blanket?"

"Can you keep a secret, sheila?" he grinned.

"I always do."

He lifted up the blanket and she grinned.

"Boy, am I glad Logan isn't around tonight," Rogue breathed.

"Oh really?"

"Yep," Rogue smirked happily.

St. John and Wanda exchanged grins through the battered rearview mirror.

"And behind door number two," St. John whipped out a small bag of neatly wrapped, individual chocolate delicacies.

Oh yes. It was going to be a fantastic night.

* * *

**AN: **Had to cut this chapter in half. It'll be up soon. Savor the next chapter, I may be on hiatus after… :frownyface:

Also, review me? Please? I'm almost at 200 review mark and you'd make a jobless girl quite happy...:D


	26. Like The Inside of a Bar Bathroom

**Disclaimer: **I don't even own the rights to my college degrees and will not for many, many, many years… It's called a starving ex-student, and by the state of my bank account, I'm living the dream.

**Pairing:** Rogue and Gambit

**Rating: **Teen/Mature

**Warnings:** Contains dark and adult themes

**Summary: **It's what happens when two sides collide. The explosion between what you want and what you need, what's right and what's wrong. It's the wreckage. And it could be so easy. ROMY.

* * *

**The Wreckage**

**Chapter Twenty-Six**

**Like The Inside of a Bar Bathroom**

* * *

Remy stuffed his phone in his coat pocket lazily, trying to mask his annoyance as he sauntered down the busy streets of New York. The drop had taken entirely too long. It was supposed to be a quick in and out, give them the flash drives and get his money and get _out_. Instead, henchman number two scrutinized him calmly while the other scrutinized the contents of the flash drive.

"It would have been nice to get an actual sample," he had sneered.

"It would have been nice to know what you wanted," Gambit answered easily, aware of every unobvious sound echoing throughout the club back room. He kept an easy poker face on throughout the entire meeting, eyes flicking lazily between the two men. There was an unspoken observation crackling between the two men; it was obvious they were watching him intently, suspicious of something. Gambit kept the meeting as nonchalant as their last. There was no way they could tell he had an accomplice or had copied the information again; what were they looking for?

The head henchman gave him a calculating, too-friendly smile as they finished the transaction, again inquiring about Gambit's whereabouts for the near future. Gambit gave him a standard, noncommittal answer and flourished his way out of the establishment at the first opportune moment. His gut feeling said they had something more in store for him, he just wasn't sure what.

Regardless of the suspicion, the time told him he was a wee bit late picking up Rogue. He knew the professor wouldn't mind (it was important X-Men related business he had to do after all) and by the time they got back, the telepath would undoubtedly be asleep. Since Logan was assured not to back until later, he doubted anyone would even note their prolonged absence if they didn't look at the security feed.

Regardless of the time, Remy wove through the deadening streets haphazardly. He had a good sense of the city and couldn't risk being followed back to the Institute by the hungry-eyes of the henchmen. Rogue would have to wait a little longer, but he doubted she would mind. She hardly seemed the type to worry about curfews while feeling so locked up; that and she also knew Logan wouldn't be picking her up tonight and Remy only had a gut feeling as to what she might be doing at the Brotherhood house.

He called her phone as he reached his bike, just to let her know he was on his way, but she didn't answer. Instead of responding to her snippy voicemail, he texted a quick message. There was a small voice in back of his head telling him to just take the direct way back, that as an obvious target she could have been easily picked up tonight. Weaving through traffic, he dismissed the voice easily; he couldn't risk leading anyone back and she was with five other mutants. Granted, these mutants were the Brotherhood, but Wanda had to at least count for 3 mutants when she was irate, right?

Easing to a quiet stop in front of the Brotherhood house, Remy took a quick look of his surroundings. The unmistakable quietness was eerie. He hadn't felt the vibration of a responding text or call in his driving and his former inkling grew as he walked up to the somewhat fixed up estate. Magneto had done well with the place, he would admit that. However, a coat of paint couldn't fix what slobs lived inside, even with a perpetually angry female's presence. Remy walked up to the door with caution.

Not bothering to knock, Remy swung open the door and threw in an uncharged card into the living room. He was disappointed when there was no surprised response or shrieking. Instead, Todd chuckled like an idiot, "Woah man, where'd that come from?"

Remy narrowed his eyes in annoyance. Had he gone so soft that no one was intimidated by his calling card anymore? Remy stepped in and leaned against the doorway, observing the hazardous living room.

"Aye, yo!" Todd called out slowly to Remy and pointing to him lazily. "How long've you been here?"

The living room was a massacre. There had to have been two large cases worth of beer cans splayed out around just the living room and it was starting to smell of stale, dry beer even from his vantage point. Of those in the room, Todd was the only one still awake, and he was slowly flipping through channels, clearly not picky on what he was watching. Blob had fallen asleep with a pizza box on his stomach. Lance was passed out on the floor, splayed on his stomach and snoring with a red cup still in his hand.

It was apparent Remy had missed quite an event.

But despite the monotonous hum of E! on the television, everything else was quiet. "Where's everyone else?"

"Ionno, yo," Todd shrugged emphatically. "Pietro went to get us more beer."

"And where's Rogue?"

"Ionno, man. Last I saw, she was with Wanda. I think. Maybe. Ionno, man. What?"

Remy resisted rolling his eyes. Was it just him or was Todd extra dim-witted tonight? "Thanks for the help, _mon ami_," he muttered as he walked past.

"Hey man," Todd called back, waving the remote control languidly. "This thing ain't workin' right. I think there's beer in it. Got any batteries?"

Maneuvering towards the kitchen, Remy didn't stop to see the effect his charged card had on the green-tinged mutant. All he knew as that he heard a shriek, a laugh, and a "thanks, yo". It made no sense.

Investigating the bottom floor, he walked past a large beer spill and a passed-out Pietro curled up under the table. There were muted voices and laughter creeping in from the outside- along with other highly questionable smells. Remy pushed open the back door and stepped out into the nippy night and was almost immediately greeted with three loud voices chiming "Ayy!"

"Well, well. What do we have here?" he mused, smirking downward at the three mutants splayed around a burning hookah pipe on the back porch.

"You're late, mate!" St. John announced and guffawed. "Hey, that rhymed! I'm a poet and didn't even know it!"

Wanda and Rogue laughed simultaneously and it was strange to watch.

Rogue took a drag off the pipe and then snapped her glove-less fingers at Remy. "Hey hey," Rogue pulled the hookah hose away from her mouth and pointed at St. John. "Lookit," she grinned gleefully. "I found him!"

Remy chuckled in amusement and leaned against the doorway. "Looks like you did," he answered, watching her curiously. She was all smiles and laughs; there was no doubt in his mind that she had been drinking tonight.

"Hey Cajun," Wanda called out. "Lift up your shirt for me, will ya?"

Rogue threw her head back in laughter and Remy had to admit that was an alarming first time he had heard her laugh so carelessly. And as Remy reached to pull up the edge of his shirt, St. John's eyes widened and he threw his hands over Wanda's eyes. "No, mate, whatever you do! Don't!" he pleaded to Remy. "I'll lose the magic!"

"Magic? What magic?" Wanda incredulously wondered.

"Your magic!"

Another peel of laughter and Remy couldn't begin to fathom why that was so funny.

He looked closer at Rogue's curiously delighted face as she blew smoke rings effortlessly. Besides the tell-tale beer cans and red cups splayed around her, there was something _off_ about the way Rogue lounged against the side of the house. "I thought you didn't smoke, _chére_," he admonished.

"And I thought you were gonna pick me up about…" she fumbled to pull out her phone and look at the time. "Ohhh man, it's late," she laughed, completely forgetting what she was about to say. "Oh hey, a missed call."

At least Remy knew why she didn't pick up the phone. She was otherwise occupied with questionable activities. He'd have to talk to her about that unfortunate habit later. She was just lucky it was him picking her up and not anyone else.

"And I got a text from you too!"

"Would you look at that…" he mocked and turned to her friends. "How much has she had to drink?"

Wanda and St. John stared at each other and then stared at Rogue puffing away and then back at Remy. They shrugged and laughed.

"Roguey," Wanda called Rogue's attention back. "How much have you had?"

"Of what?"

"Of everything."

_Dieu, _what was everything?

"Yes," Rogue nodded in definitive seriousness, fiddling with the hookah hose.

"I call you for beer pong partner next time!" St. John pointed emphatically at Rogue.

"Hey!" Wanda exclaimed indignantly.

"No!" Rogue sat up straighter and pointed just as emphatically back. "Table troll!"

"But you're good and I never get to win!" he whined and thrashed his feet in protest a little. He pouted mournfully to Remy. "She sent me and Pietro under the table."

"Well, that explains why he's still there," Remy replied, unprepared for the gleeful faces beaming back at him.

"He's still there?" St. John squeaked hopefully.

"Passed out like a baby after their bottle."

"Hey hey hey," Rogue hissed jovially and fluttered her hands at Wanda. "We can catch him now!"

"We can!" Wanda gasped and began to toddle over to the door Remy was still occupying. St. John crawled right after her.

"Do I even want to know?" Remy looked down at the lone patio smoker.

"Yes," Rogue nodded seriously. "And y'know what else?"

"What?"

"I can't get up," she announced matter-of-factly.

"Can't or don't want to?"

"I don't remember…" she mused slowly.

"Todd! Where are all the sharpies?" they heard Wanda hollering throughout the house.

"I think… I forgot how to,'" she drawled finally.

Remy sighed as he reached over to hoist her up. She grabbed onto his arms and stumbled on to her feet.

"You good?"

"Like a Hostess cupcake," she popped as she let go and began sway towards the voices.

Remy wasn't sure whether to be bothered or amused as he followed Rogue sway into the kitchen. Todd was perched on the dripping table, peering down in morbid fascination at Wanda cackling as she started drawing explicit things on her twin's cheek.

"Oh! Oh! Draw a curly line here," St. John chimed in right next to her. "And here!"

"Ohhh, gimme the marker," Rogue collapsed on the floor next to them and swiped the marker with her pale, bare hands.

Immediately, alarm bells rang and Remy tried to draw her back. "Rogue," he warned lightly.

She swatted his hand away from her.

He tried again. "Rogue, your gloves-"

"I _got _this," she shooed him off and poked her tongue out of her mouth as she used Pietro's spiky hair as leverage against her skin. With slow determination, she wrote TROLL neatly on his forehead and sat back and admired the collective handiwork.

"Pictures," Wanda nodded in deep approval. "We need so many pictures."

St. John crawled right out of the kitchen and rolled right back in with a camera in hand. Like a photographer, he began rolling around on the sticky floor, snapping pictures of Pietro in various positions.

"Oh yeah, just like that. Give it to me, that's it," he muttered repeatedly, getting a close-up of Pietro's face. "Shine, baby, don't change a thing."

Todd wobbled right off the table and began chuckling stupidly. "Ay, no man, gotta get him like this," he snuggled up right next to Pietro and the dirty picture-taking began.

Rogue couldn't stop laughing and Wanda started laughing and moaning in her hands, leaning against Rogue for support. "No, no, no… It's hilarious but I can't watch. It's my brother…my little brother…"

Even Remy chuckled and shook his head in amusement with the ending night shenanigans. He could imagine himself doing the same thing to St. John (and he might have during the Buckethead Era, now that he was thinking about it…). He was just glad they chose the bratty son as the victim; on anyone one else and it would have been a waste.

Kicking Rogue lightly, he motioned towards the door. "It's late," he reminded her and she only looked at him in blank confusion as he lifted her up.

"Nuh-uh. And how would you know? You don't sleep."

"True," he shrugged, setting her upright. "But other mutants do," he pointed to a Todd that looked a bit too drowsy cuddled up next to Pietro. His attention shifted to the "not-a-couple" right next to the passed out boys, laughing and touching a bit too intimately for company.

"You're leaving already?" Wanda asked Rogue pathetically as St. John gnawed at her neck.

"I am?"

"You are," Remy confirmed.

"Oh, where we goin'?"

"Candy Mountain."

"Oh good," Rogue sighed in relief. "I'm hungry."

"Hungry?" Suddenly, little alarm bells starting ringing in Remy's head.

"Why didn't you say so!" Wanda's hands shot up in the air and she grinned. "One for the road?"

"Is there even any left?" Rogue's eyes widened in amazement.

"Enough for us," Wanda sang as she dug into St. John's pocket and retrieved two small, saran wrapped packages.

"Hey, what about me?" St. John pouted.

"It's for the greater good, dear. You can delinquent freely here- she can't," Wanda patted his cheek as she hobbled up to Rogue and passed her a package. "To another day of Rogue not being kidnapped."

"Huzzah!"

Things became increasingly clearer to Remy as Rogue unwrapped the package like it was the Holy Grail. Primarily, his hunches were right; everyone was acting a bit more dim-witted than normal and the reason behind that was hidden inside that brownie. As a second thought, he realized he really should stop her from eating more brownie.

He thought this a bit too late and his knee-jerk reaction to reach out and grab the treat didn't leave the joints in his finger before she popped the brownie into her mouth and was moaning in delight.

"My compliments to the chef," she sighed in joy, a content smile easing onto her face.

And Remy almost narrowed his eyes in annoyance, mainly with himself. Who was he to stop her from doing whatever she wanted? She was an adult- no wait, she wasn't. She was still a minor under Xavier's care. But hell, she was more mature than most of the other teenagers in that school. And who the hell was he to take away these moments from her? He wasn't a guardian, a mentor, a parent- he was just the guy picking her up. Hell, Kitty wouldn't go so far as to physically stop Rogue from doing what she wanted, right? And if memory served him correctly, she would even try to cover up for Rogue- because that's what friends did.

Curiously watching Rogue stumble around giving everyone hugs, he mulled that thought over in his head a few times. It wasn't like he was going to purposefully rat her out (who likes a tattletale?) but would he take the time to cover for her in case one of the adults suspected something amiss if he could?

"Alright, _chére_," he guided her by the arm, picking up her gloves on their way out. "Let's get you somewhere safe before that kicks in, _hein?_"

"Before what kicks in?"

"Exactly."

"Okay," she sighed contently as she stumbled along.

Slapping a helmet on her head, he climbed onto his bike and helped her on. "Don't you dare think of fallin' asleep on me."

"Wouldn't dream of it," she shook her head slowly. "I need my pajamas."

"Put your arms around me," he commanded, yanking her hands together tightly. "Hold on tight."

It was a miracle she didn't lose focus and let go mid-ride. He almost had a heart attack when she lolled her head back and quickly yanked her back in. Had he known she was going to be in her current state he would have dropped by the mansion to pick up Scott's car.

They rolled up through the security gates, past the streaming sprinklers leaking water onto the pavement, and into the garage when Remy noticed an extra car in place- a car that hadn't been there when he left. He groaned. It was most likely Hank- Hank who occasionally indulged his darker nature and slept during the day. More often than not, he was on night patrol. And wouldn't it be just peachy if that was the case tonight?

Remy jumped off the bike and helped a swaying Rogue off. How would she sneak in without Hank noticing her- or for _that_ matter, smelling her?

"_Chére_," he made a face. "You smell like the inside of a bar bathroom." She smelt like she was dipped in beer and rolled in smoke. How had he not noticed this before?

Oh that's right. Because the Brotherhood house smelt _that_ much worse.

Rogue took a moment to process this. "Not sure if bad thing… or a compliment…"

"Definitely not a compliment," he muttered. There would undoubtedly be a trail of stench following everywhere she went, which would undoubtedly end up all over the Mansion in her curious fog.

"Definitely a compliment," she nodded slowly, seemingly unaware he had spoken.

With a long look towards the side entrance, Remy ran a hand through his hair. The question arose again: would he cover for her?

"It smells so smooth," she muttered, running her hands along the shiny contours of his bike.

One look at her and he groaned. She was _smiling_. Not just grinning from acts of deviance, but she was _genuinely smiling_. She was always so angry and defensive but she was so docile and calm… it was a nice change and he hated that he thought so.

Damnit, he was going to cover for her. And not just pass it off like an accident or plead the fifth. He'd pull all the stops out and make sure her good night wasn't ruined.

Because he kind of owed her.

He kind of owed her for that one time he sent her life upside down and that second time he sent the Wolverine's wrath on her- and for countless other things that he didn't have the time to remind himself with. Regardless, in the short time he had been at the Institute, she herself had proven her trustworthiness to keep his demons far more than most people in his life.

Yeah, he owed her this.

But how the _hell _was he going to get her past detection? Her loopy ass was _screaming_ suspicion.

"I can feel all of the molecules in my body…"

You couldn't reason with someone who wasn't in their right mind. There was only one way he could fathom to get her inside- it wouldn't fix her ascent into the high heavens but it would solve the smell and that was more than half the battle, right?

"I'ma count them… one… two… three…"

Remy slowly guided her away from the bike and outside into the cold weather. She was in a good mood, right? What he was about to do wasn't going to wake the hibernating bear from its slumber, right?

"It's so nice out," she sighed.

"Is it really?"

"Mmmhm…"

No matter what she said, it was late November in New York- it was not _nice_ by their collective southern standard.

"Sorry, _chére,_" he muttered as he walked her along the wet lawn's edge. "It's really for your own good."

"Mmm," she sighed.

And he pushed her into the running sprinklers.

Rogue landed on her back and stared up at him in confused shock, a steady stream of water slowly drenching her. "I fell."

If that's what she wanted to believe, that was _fine_ with him.

Rogue made no move to get up. In fact, she merely stared up into the clouds, seemingly unaware of the freezing water soaking through her clothes.

"Rogue," he called out and her eyes slowly moved over to him, as if she forgot he was with her. "Time to get up."

"You should join me. It's nice," she hummed, eyes drifting.

"Don't think I have a choice," he muttered, stepping into the grass and hauling Rogue to her feet. He could feel the water soaking into his trench coat and freezing his back. At least this ploy would be somewhat believable.

Guiding Rogue back, he figured she was drenched enough to imitate a wet dog by the way her chucks squished with each step.

"When we get in, I don't want to hear you say a peep, got it? You just march on upstairs and change. Don't talk to _anyone_."

"Who?"

"_Anyone_," he stressed. "You let me do the talkin'."

"Okay," she smiled serenely.

"And don't smile," he groaned. "And _try_ to act like yourself."

"Okay." Her smile didn't change. "What?"

"_Dieu_," he opened the door and guided her in.

It was silent as he pushed her though the entrances. He wouldn't allow himself to think everything was going smoothly, like he wouldn't need to worry about covering for her any further. But they had made it through the first floor without any sign of life…

But as soon as they stepped on the staircase, a loud, boomingly cheerful voice stopped them.

"Up so early? Or back so late?"

Remy and Rogue halted on the steps and looked back to find a cheerful Hank beaming at them with his half-moon reading spectacles and pot-sized mug of coffee.

_Merde_. It was showtime.

He could do this. Remy was a master of many things- and that included distraction.

"Back late," Remy feigned tired and rolled the muscles in his neck tiredly. "The drop wasn't as clean as I'da hoped," he explained with an annoyed eye-roll and scoff. _Go _now_, Rogue,_ he mentally urged. "Was late pickin' her up," he yanked a thumb towards her.

"A problem with the drop?" Hank's bushy eyebrows furrowed. Too easy. "Is everything alright?"

"It is, but they definitely took their time lookin' and complainin'."

"You weren't compromised, right?"

"_Non,_" he shook his head adamantly. "They seemed suspicious though. I took the long-way back, just in case."

"Good choice." Hank nodded gravely. "I haven't had a chance to go through the files completely but of what I did see, I don't particularly agree with."

"You and I both."

"Well," he sighed tiredly. "We will confer more about this in- why in high heavens are you two sodden?"

Remy took the moment to look back at Rogue, who hadn't moved but was staring at something off into the distance. Mentally, he urged her to go; again, she didn't seem to hear him.

"We got caught in the sprinklers," Remy explained almost shortly. "Was just on our way to get dry."

"Ah, of course," Hank nodded hurriedly. "I will not keep you longer, then. Perhaps we will discuss what else you found later."

"_D'accord_, _plus tard_," he saluted tiredly as he lightly pushed Rogue up the stairs.

"Oh, and Rogue?"

They both halted and Remy hid a wince. Rogue turned and looked at Hank wordlessly.

"Might I suggest a warm shower and hot tea to stave off a cold? You are dripping wet and I hardly think you of all, ah, Mutant Manor would like to be the first Med Bay visitor of the cold season…"

"Yessir!" Rogue nodded curtly and gave a brief, two-fingered salute before marching back up the stairs.

Remy fought a groan as he trailed her up the stairs. At least she got the smart-assed part of herself right on target. Gazing around the room, looking like an idiot as people around her carried on a conversation? Not so much. She really needed more practice acting normal while under the influence.

Waiting around the hallway corner of the boys' wing for Hank to bounce away, he soundlessly made his way to Rogue's room. A quick knock on her door and he heard her humming in response. Slipping in quickly, he found her splayed out on the floor in only a long shirt. A long-sleeved, wet shirt that clung too close to her curves.

She giggled (it was like she was a _completely_ different person) and wrinkled her nose in amusement. "Oh hi!"

"_Chére_," he began patiently, pinching the bridge of his nose. "What are you doin'?"

"Ionno. I forgot…" she confessed with a sheepish, serene smile, flailing her limbs around on the carpeted floor, raising her shirt up her black panty-line...

_Damnit_, he _owed_ her.

Shuffling through her dresser, he threw clothes at her and commanded her to change. To be honest, getting her sick never crossed his mind as he pushed her into those sprinklers. Taking a shower would be a smart thing, except she'd probably forget what she was doing and accidently drown herself. The least he could do was make sure she changed.

With his back turned, he heard the slow rustling of clothing. He peeked when he heard her lay back down and snapped back around to find her a sweater and a towel. She was cold… and he could tell.

_Fucking hell_, he _owed_ her.

Yanking the sweater over her head, he ran a towel vigorously over her dripping hair and gave her a dry look. "Try to get warm and not to get yourself into any more trouble, _s'il vous plait_?"

She only gazed back peacefully as he set her on her bed and threw a comforter over her. Was anything even registering with her at this point?

"And don't you dare get sick," he warned as he shut the door.

Pausing outside the door, he didn't hear her move. Good. Maybe she'd just stare at the ceiling until she fell asleep. She was out of woods for being caught, right? And he did his duty to the best of his ability. He got her home safely, into her pajamas, and into bed. The night was done with. His debt was (kind of) paid.

Remy briefly considered going back out on the town as he changed into dry clothes. He looked back outside. It still looked miserably cold so maybe not. Maybe he would take his own advice and get warmed up. And maybe eat something. Rogue mentioned being hungry earlier and now he was hungry too. There had to still be leftovers, right?

Sneaking back downstairs, he raided the kitchen and warmed up a plate. About to take it up to his room, he stopped dead in the corridor. In the time he had been scavenging for food, the common room TV was turned on. Damnit.

He found Rogue lying on the couch, staring at the TV mindlessly. She was twirling a lock her mussed hair around her fingers incessantly.

"What'd I say about not gettin' into trouble?"

Rogue glossy eyes flickered lazily up towards him and she only blinked. "Oh, hello…" she greeted dreamily.

Sighing, he sat himself next to her. "You're a handful. Anyone ever tell you that?" Did the girl always have to be a couch hog? Everyone knew the best seat was the one right in front of the TV and she always managed to take that.

"Irene did," she murmured distantly. "Irene told me every day."

"Irene?" But he got no answer. Her attention drifted over to the endless commercials of the TV.

Taking the remote with no resistance on her part, he began flicking through the channels. Rogue continued to languidly run her hair through her fingers. Was her hair curling out or was that just his imagination?

The TV filled the lack of conversation while he gobbled down his food. Apparently she wasn't hungry anymore; her eyes didn't ever flicker over to his plate or register he was eating. The TV completely took over her attention; he was in a trance, complete with even breathing and repetitive twirling.

Sometime after the tenth Girls Gone Wild commercial, her bare feet started swinging slowly in the air.

"It feels like water," she sighed.

And he couldn't help but to laugh quietly to himself as he set the plate aside. There was something unsettling about the difference in Rogue-in-real-life versus Rogue-high-and-drunk. It was a jolting personality change, a complete 180. While her normal personality fluctuated from actively-brooding to barely-cheerfully-conniving-and-sarcastic on a day to day basis, her intoxicated self took on almost a normal hue. It was relaxed, calm, secure… unburdened. It was nice but sobering. It made him wonder.

Rogue's eyes flickered up to his, again as if remembering he was right next to her. "Your eyes…" she drifted off, clearly unable to carry a coherent conversation. He waited for her to finish her sentence regardless.

But when she started to slowly glide her feet along the fabric of the couch, he couldn't resist asking. "What in the world are you doin', _fille_?".

"Ionno," she breathed softly. "It feels so nice on my skin…it all does…"

Rogue continued running her feet all over and soon started toeing the fabric of Remy's sweats freely. Before he knew it, he grabbed her feet delicately with his gloved fingers and he placed them gently on his lap. Rogue didn't jerk away in surprise like she normally did; she just lolled her head back onto the arm rest and sighed in pleasure.

As he ran his fingers lightly over the arches of her feet, he knew what she wanted, what she was really jonesing for. Hell, Remy LeBeau always knew what women wanted. And for the most part, he always delivered.

Rogue was self-sacrificing and it was a trait that didn't come naturally to her. It was a survival mechanism, a learned trait stemming from fear and when you take away the fear, the inhibition...

He trailed a path lightly up the top side of her foot and ran gently up her covered legs, easing back down her calves and caressing the soles of her feet. It was easy to see the subconscious desires when you cracked the defensive and sarcastic surface; it was even easier when you had particular mind alterations. Prancing around the empty Institute with gloves off only when she held a game controller hinted at that. The way she didn't take back her feet even though his hands were only half-way gloved showed him that. Hell, even her hot pink toenails told him that.

Starting up the path again, he ventured a little bit higher, past her calves and up to her mid-thighs, making sure to alter to the pattern each time. Using his empathy didn't give much insight into her foggy state but she had stopped fingering her hair (now he _really _wasn't imagining it- the girl had curly hair) mid-twirl and was lounging into the couch, biting her lip with her eyes closed.

"Y'know what, Cajun?" she mumbled drowsily seemingly forever later.

"What's that?"

"You're a good friend."

He almost didn't hear her, she had muttered it so low it sounded like her thoughts drifted off again. But he heard it and there was no mistaking what she said in her drugged out state. As she fell into silence once more, he couldn't convince himself it was and wasn't the truth.

* * *

Remy awoke to being smacked upside the head. Squinting, he looked up to see Logan glaring daggers down at him, remote smacking his hand threateningly. Looking down, he realized Rogue's legs were still draped sleepily over his lap and his hands were still on her legs. Yeah, it looked questionable…

But this is what friends did, right?

* * *

**AN:** Over 200 reviews! I want to do a little jig for you all, but I fear I might scare you away. In thanks, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. I think we've all imagined a man-biscuit giving us a euphoric massage once in our life, eh, eh? Just put yourself in Rogue's position and close your eyes… Thank you again to everyone who reviewed and has been reviewing and alerting and being generally awesome. You all make my day and you all rock.


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